One, Another
by abletotry
Summary: Lily and James survived the attack on Godric's Hollow. The Potters are feuding with the Malfoys and Harry finds himself pulled into that against his will. In his first year he meets a Seer who tells him about the love he will have in the future. HPDM
1. Waiting for an Owl

**Title - **One, Another

**Summary - **Lily and James did not die in the attack in Godric's Hollow. Harry has grown up with a family that loves him, as well as the attention of the entire wizarding world. But the Potters are feuding with the Malfoys, and Harry finds himself pulled into that against his will. In his first year at Hogwarts, he meets a Seer who tells him about the love he will have in the future and helps whenever things become overwhelming.

**Pairings - **Harry x Draco, Lily x James, Lucius x Narcissa and eventual Remus x Tonks and Ron x Hermione.

**Notes - **This is going to be a slow-moving story following the boys as they go through Hogwarts and a short time after. I plan to update every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. In the later chapters the romance will be more prominent and there will be mature scenes. I hope you enjoy the story, and please take the time to review! This is my first Harry Potter fanfiction, and I'd like to know what you liked or what I should be doing differently.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It was a cool day in Godric's Hollow. The warmth of the sun was offset by the gentle breezes that brushed over and past everything they could. As they ran through the leaves of the trees outside, they made a sound that Lily loved.

This time of year it was soft, so much so that you could almost forget that it was there. In winter there would be fierce storms and the sound would be louder, strong enough to make her heart race. In autumn the slightest bit of wind would send leaves fluttering to the ground, and they would lie largely silent until her husband would go out to clear them and she could listen to her young son as he played, his laughter sounding out with the crackling of old leaves.

It took James three times as long to get the job done when Harry went out to help him. He would invariably be distracted by his child, joining in on his games and suggesting some of his own. Hours later they would come inside covered in leaves but with bright smiles on their faces, and James would look apologetically at Lily, silently promising her that he would finish clearing the leaves tomorrow.

This was her home and she loved it. It was a place for family, a place where they could enjoy each other's company without fear of being photographed and appearing in the latest issue of the _Daily Prophet_. They could be themselves; James could walk around wearing that smile that was completely free of fear or wariness that Lily had never seen him show anywhere but here.

Harry could slouch or misbehave if he wanted to, secure in the knowledge that while his parents may reprimand him he wouldn't receive Howlers from people he had never met, screaming at him that he was a representative of the wizarding world, and if he couldn't sit up straight then how could he be trusted to defeat You-Know-Who? The wards on the house had been adjusted long ago to prevent the red menaces from entrance.

Lily stood in the kitchen making some toast, absently enjoying the sound of the wind in the trees. If she looked through one of the windows she could see it, but she had looked enough today to have practically memorised the sight. Sunlight fell on the deep green leaves, and they cast shadows that moved and shifted on the grass of the lawn.

The flowers that she kept were positioned against the house, trailing around the outside of it and off to one side of the wide lawn. She could see a few ambitious roses, taller than the rest, at the edge of the window. They waved slightly in the breeze. Over to the left, some metres away, there were azaleas and snow peas in view. There were others of course, but they couldn't be seen from the small windows of the kitchen.

For the last hour Sirius had been walking around the yard, his eyes searching the sky. She didn't know where Remus was, but he was certain to be doing the same thing wherever James had positioned him. They weren't in any danger, but this happened to be a very special week at the Potters and the men were taking it particularly seriously.

In a few days her Harry would be turning eleven. He had already shown magical ability, so it wasn't a matter of _if_ he would be accepted into Hogwarts, but _when._ The owl with his letter could arrive at any moment, and that was what her friends were watching for.

The sound of Harry's boyish laughter spilled into the kitchen. Lily smiled to herself as she buttered one piece of toast. So many years had passed but they were still the Marauders. They had lost a member – Peter, to Azkaban – and one of them had started a family, but they stubbornly held on to that easy humour, that charming immaturity that she could not help but love. With all that had happened she was glad that they could laugh the way they did, and lectured them more for show than genuine disapproval.

She buttered a second piece and placed it back on the plate beside the first. With all the speed and skill of a mother who had done it thousands of times before, she cut both into strips of three and arranged them on the plate. When they were done to her satisfaction, Lily poured a glass of juice and stepped out into the living room.

It was a small room, taller than it was wide. The furniture was all fashionably mismatched and scattered about, with stacks of books and odd-looking trinkets piled on top of it. There was a fireplace against one wall and a couch in front of it, which seemed to move from day to day. It was Sirius' favourite and he all but refused to sit anywhere else.

The walls were white but you couldn't really see enough of them to tell. Photographs of family and friends went all the way up to the ceiling. Not all of them were the moving wizarding photos; some were Muggle from Lily's childhood or holidays that the family had made in Muggle areas. There were a few small portraits of James' family but they were polite and mostly kept to themselves.

Tapestries had found their way in to the home, colourful and old and mixed in with the photos. The windows were wide and bordered in white, matching the frame of the door that led outside. Red curtains fell around them but were rarely used. In the middle of the room there was a dark wooden table, currently pushed up against the back of Sirius' couch. Here her son Harry sat with his father across from him.

Lily walked over and placed the plate and glass in front of him. Harry looked up at her with a smile, his green eyes bright behind his wiry glasses. "Thanks Mum."

She smiled back and touched his head affectionately. "Now, make sure you eat it all and don't let your father distract you," she told him, the slight sternness of her tone clearly directed at her husband. Harry grinned and started eating.

"What? Why, Lily, how could you possibly think I would do such a thing!" James said in mock protest.

She gave him a stern look. "I don't want you making him laugh when he needs to be finishing his lunch."

"Alright, alright. I'll just sit here and keep watch then," he settled back into his seat, looking as though he thought everything was sorted. A few moments later James' head swung comically and his eyes studied one of the windows, and then again as he stared down the unused fireplace and again, looking curiously at one corner of the room as if the long-awaited owl would come flying out of it.

Harry giggled and Lily coughed pointedly. He looked back at her, the picture of false innocence. "Today could be the day," he said, by way of explanation.

Lily rolled her eyes. For the past three days that was all she had been hearing. Whenever she questioned one of the three self-appointed guards, they had said the same thing. James ended his conversations with 'Today could be the day' and Remus with 'It's all for Harry'. Her favourite was Sirius', spoken to her with a ramrod-straight back, an unsmiling face and a twinkle of laughter in his eyes – 'This is serious business'.

"It could just as easily be tomorrow," she pointed out, though she already knew how he would respond.

James' eyes moved to his son, no doubt conveying some silent message only Harry would understand. "It could still be today."

Harry abruptly started laughing and began to choke on a piece of toast he hadn't quite swallowed. He coughed and reached for his juice as Lily rubbed and patted his back. Once his throat was cleared, he began to laugh again.

Sighing, Lily decided to change the subject. "Where is Remus?" she asked, moving her soothing hand from her son's back when he gestured to her that he was fine.

"Up in the attic," James told her. She was certain that if he hadn't been pretending to be Harry's guard, he would have a smug look on his face from having defeated her.

"Why is he up there?"

James gave her an odd look and then went back to watching Harry. "When you're on the lookout for an owl, the top of the house is the best place to be."

"Ah, right." Lily rubbed her forehead, more out of habit than genuine tiredness. Truthfully she enjoyed her husband's antics, but they weren't always harmless and someone had to teach Harry how to be sensible. He was a considerate child and didn't seem to be picking up too much of his father's ways, but if she wasn't careful in a few years she'd have another James to look out for. It wouldn't be so bad, no, but she rather liked the red in her hair.

"You might want to hurry if you want to see him; we're changing positions in..." James checked his watch, a magical device that Lily had never been able to read, "...seven minutes and thirty-two seconds. Then he'll be here, I'll be near that corner of the house where you grow your sunflowers, and Sirius is meant to use a Levitation spell to get himself to the top of the chimney-"

"He'll do no such thing," Lily interrupted.

"He will in seven minutes and seventeen seconds," James replied cheerfully.

The way Harry's shoulders shook a little as he picked up his next piece of toast, he was trying wisely not to laugh. James winked at him and the shoulders shook a little more.

Lily had known her husband long enough to understand that she would be wasting her time if she spent it talking to him. It would be better if she went directly to the others and spoke to them herself. She sighed, realising again that she both loved and was frustrated by James' stubbornness. She bent down to give him a quick kiss on the cheek and went off to find Remus.

When she reached the stairs she heard Harry erupt into laughter behind her. Despite herself, she smiled.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The attic was, oddly enough, far less crowded than the rest of the house. They didn't use the space for storage. Instead it was a place of solitude, for Remus to use in the days before and after a full moon and he started to feel overwhelmed. For Sirius when a memory struck him particularly hard, for James when it became too difficult to just laugh at everything that went wrong.

For Lily herself, when she needed to cry. For Harry, even, when he wanted to get away from a guest he didn't much care for. He'd never gotten on well with Lily's sister Petunia and her family and avoided them as much as he could get away with. Fortunately for him, one visit had been enough for both sides of the family.

The ceiling was heavily slanted, and a long skylight showed the clear sky outside. There were a few boxes in one corner which were covered with an old sheet. A few wooden chairs in various states of ruin sat here and there. A number of cages lined one wall close to the window, where they had planned for any owls to be kept. Then Voldemort had attacked and it had become necessary to prevent even owls from finding the house. It served as a reminder of how he had taken away some of her dreams, however small.

She saw them now and felt that familiar gratitude. It was the gratitude of a mother who could have lost her child and didn't, of a wife who could have lost her husband and didn't, could have lost her friends and her own life and _didn't._

If Harry had been scarred and now lived with the attention of the entirety of the wizarding world, then that was better than him not living at all. At least they were all alive and healthy, and together. They were a family. Here in their home in Godric's Hollow, which Lily had _refused_ to leave, with her ten-year-old son laughing downstairs and waiting for his acceptance letter.

She usually avoided the attic. It made her want to cry or hunt down Voldemort herself and hurt him; such was the intensity of her feelings.

Remus stood in front of the window but had turned away from it to greet her. He didn't speak until he saw that she had control of her emotions. Of the Marauders he was the kindest, not as stubborn as James or oblivious as Sirius. His heightened werewolf senses allowed him to read people, and Lily had wondered in the past if he would have become quite so proficient if he hadn't been turned at a young age.

"Lily," he said finally, with a gentle smile.

She smiled back, the only acknowledgment he would get of his patience before she got to business. "James tells me that you're watching for owls up here."

Remus paled slightly, as if he knew what was coming. He nodded.

"And that you're switching around in a few minutes."

"Three and a half," he said quickly. Lily's eyes narrowed and he looked distressed. "Uhh..."

"And that Sirius is, of all things, intending on _Levitating himself onto the roof_. Would you happen to know anything about that, Remus?"

"Well, yes," he managed to get out, taking a step back when she took one forward. "It wasn't my idea-"

"It wasn't your idea that Sirius Levitate himself onto the roof _while my son is downstairs?_ My ten-year-old son, who I'm sure would like to celebrate his birthday and acceptance into Hogwarts this week rather than his godfather's unfortunate passing?" Lily took another step, her eyes hard.

"It's completely safe, Lily, it's not as if he hasn't done something similar in the past. He won't get hurt," Remus tried to assure her.

"Not by falling off my roof, no," she agreed. The look in her eyes made it clear what she meant, and Remus actually shivered.

He was silent for a few moments, just looking back at her. He appeared to be considering his options, and finally seemed to have found one that didn't result in angering her further when he spoke: "I'll go and talk to him."

"Good," Lily stepped back and smiled at him. Remus watched her warily, as if she had just revealed herself to be a dragon and expected her to set his hair on fire at any moment. He stepped past her and hurried down the stairs, Lily following him at a more collected pace.

Harry had finished his toast and was carrying the plate and glass to the kitchen. He gave Remus a concerned look as he brushed past him on his way out to the yard. Seeing his mother, he smiled at her. "I've finished eating, Mum. Thanks."

"That's good, Harry," she smiled warmly back. He went into the kitchen and she looked to her husband.

James looked stricken, obviously caught between following Remus out and staying to watch Harry. He didn't want his plan to fall apart, but he didn't want to leave Harry on the off-chance that the owl would arrive in the few minutes he would spend talking to the other two.

Lily let herself laugh now, a good-natured laugh that filled up the room.

James' expression softened when he heard it, and he stood still for a time before shaking his head and walking over to hug her. She laughed into his shoulder, and he chuckled in reply into the softness of her hair. "You're worse than me, you know," he murmured.

"I have to be." She drew back slightly to smile up at him before kissing him, slowly and lightly. She could feel him smile into the kiss, and when they separated his eyes were as bright as she thought her own must be. James kissed her again, quickly, and released her.

Harry had come back into the living room, but rather than interrupt his parents he had contented himself with watching Sirius and Remus arguing through one of the windows. Their shows of affection were way too common for him to pay much attention to it, and the men outside were becoming quite animated.

Remus had left the door open as he rushed to get outside, and through it the breeze carried some snatches of what they were saying.

'_...just can't do it, really, Siri. She'll hurt me...'_

'_Come on, you're a grown werewolf. Can't you just...'_

'_...Lily we're talking about here.'_

'_...okay, alright, I get it...'_

Harry found this very funny. Sirius especially was always telling him how scary his mother was, but he never saw it and thought they were just playing another of their jokes. He loved how they played pretend for him, to make him laugh. They were really nice, Remus, Sirius and his dad. He agreed with Lily that they were a bit silly sometimes, but usually they were just a lot of fun.

As he watched Remus suddenly stopped arguing, and pointed up at something. Both men stood still for a second, staring at whatever it was, and then rushed inside. "James! It's coming!" he heard them shout together as they ran, but an owl beat them through the door.

It was small and tawny, and very polite as it flew over to Harry and dropped an envelope into his hands. He thanked it, rubbing its neck in the way he had found owls liked and smiling as it cooed at him. It flew out through the door, very nearly smacking Sirius in the face when he couldn't get through fast enough.

The others stood watching him expectantly. Sirius and Remus were panting, more out of surprise than the effort of running to the house. James stood with one arm around his wife's waist, and Lily in turn had placed one hand on his chest. They had been pretending to be serious before, but now they were truly solemn as they waited for Harry to open the envelope.

Lily took note of the silence with an appreciative smile.

Not quite sure how to open the envelope, Harry tore it open and read the letter silently for a minute before opening his mouth to speak. He looked around at the adults with wide eyes. "Mr. Potter – that's me, right?" he asked quietly.

"Yes it is, Harry," Remus told him. "Go on, read us the letter."

Harry nodded at him and turned back to the piece of parchment. "'Dear Mr. Potter...'" he read nervously, understanding some of the gravity of the letter from what his father had told him about Hogwarts. "'We are pleased to inform you-'"

At this point Lily felt James suck in a deep breath beside her. She rubbed at his chest affectionately.

"...that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed-" Harry couldn't finish reading, because Remus had rushed forward to pull him into a tight hug. The letter slipped from his hand and he hugged the man back, laughing in excitement. Near them Sirius was whooping, shouting things about 'my godson' that didn't make much sense.

Lily's smile was wider than it had ever been. This was a special week and this was a very special day in her son's life, made all the better by her friends' enthusiasm. James, though...she was surprised that he had not gone to hug their son before Remus could. She glanced at him and was struck by the change in her husband's features.

There was an incredible look of joy and pride on James' face. She thought that she might be able to feel it rolling off him, it was so strong. She also thought that it made him look very handsome. These were thoughts that, for now, she would keep to herself.

He pressed his hand to her back gently, urging her to step forward as he did. They stopped in front of Harry who was promptly released by Remus, who stepped back to quiet Sirius.

Harry was dishevelled, his glasses crooked and his hair mussed from Remus' hug. There was a grin on his face he didn't seem able to get rid of, even with his parents suddenly formal as they stood over him. His eyes were bright and his cheeks were red with childish happiness.

James knelt in front of him, and Lily went with him. She reached out to touch his cheek as she waited for James to speak. When he did, his voice was slightly husky with emotion. "We are so, so proud of you," he told his son simply.

"Yes, we are. And we love you, Harry. So much," Lily said when he fell quiet again.

James stretched out his arms and Harry flew into them, and his father spoke to him quietly and lovingly. "You did well, Harry. You're such a great kid..." Lily heard him say, among other things she couldn't make out. She let them have some time, father and son, and then joined the hug. They pulled her easily into the embrace.

She was momentarily startled to find that Harry was tearing up, but just hugged him more tightly. "I love you, Dad. I love you, Mum. Thank you. Thanks," he said into his father's shoulder, gripping the side of James's shirt in one hand and the back of Lily's, along with some of her hair, in the other. It hurt but this was too special for her to say anything.

Her husband shifted and she saw that he was crying already, his cheeks damp. It was a beautiful sight, and Lily decided she would treasure that memory for the rest of her life. She kissed his shoulder in assurance.

This was her family. This was her home.

This was where James sometimes got caught up in talking to the portrait of his great-uncle Eadric. This was where Harry had taken his first steps, had used his magic for the first time, had gotten his acceptance letter to Hogwarts. This was where Sirius tried to Levitate himself onto the chimney, even though he knew Lily would disapprove. This was where Remus had taught Harry to fly, had told him stories, had always come to first when his transformation was difficult or if he was tired.

Voldemort had attacked them here, but he had not won and he would not take it from them. This was her home, Lily thought fiercely, where she lived with the people that she cared about and the son that she adored, and she knew that she would protect it until the day that she died.


	2. Meeting the Malfoys

It wasn't the first time that Harry had been to Diagon Alley, but it was different when he knew that they were going just for him. Having been accepted into Hogwarts he needed to get all his school supplies. Sirius told him that it meant that they would be buying all sorts of cool new things, like a cauldron or maybe an animal to take with him to school.

And of course, he would be getting his wand. The thought of that had excited Harry, but when he found himself standing outside a store he had never entered in all his trips to Diagon Alley, looking up at a rather intimidating black and gold sign that said it was 'Ollivanders', he suddenly felt very shy, and if he were honest, a little bit scared.

Getting a wand was very important to a wizard. There were people who could do spells without them, but it was very hard and often exhausting. Harry didn't know if he could do wandless magic yet. His parents had thought it best to test him for that when he was older.

Most witches and wizards, however, relied on their wand to cast spells, and a good deal of them got them from this particular wand shop. His own mother and father had gotten their wands here when they were eleven, just like he was now.

Harry didn't know why that thought made him nervous.

Sirius clapped him on the shoulder. "Aren't you excited, Harry? Your own wand!"

Harry suddenly felt ill.

Fortunately, Remus noticed and signalled to Sirius to give him a bit of space. The other man didn't notice his attempts to get his attention at first and continued to pester Harry, but as soon as he realised he stepped away.

Remus knelt down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right?" he asked gently. When Harry didn't reply, he smiled a little. "It's okay to feel nervous. But remember that this is something special, something just for you. You're getting your own wand and it will always be yours, and no one else's. You shouldn't be frightened."

"...what if I don't get a wand?" Harry mumbled, his head hanging and hair hiding his eyes.

Sirius hadn't quite heard what the boy had said, but Remus was able to with his heightened hearing. He thought he understood, but asked to be sure. "What do you mean, Harry?"

His head lifted slightly so that he could look at Remus, though he couldn't bring himself to look him in the eye just now. He ended up focussing his attention on the man's collar. "What if they don't have one for me? What if I don't get a wand like everyone else, and I can't do magic properly?" he whispered.

Remus was silent for a few seconds. "It doesn't work that way, Harry. You're a wizard who needs a wand and Ollivander, the man who owns this store, is a wandmaker. It's his job to find people wands, and I've heard he's pretty good at it, too." With this he looked past Harry to give Sirius a wry look that Harry was sure he would have returned.

"It's not as if there's one wand for every witch or wizard, either." Sirius joined in. "If I had to, I could use someone else's wand. It just wouldn't be quite as good as my own."

"That's a rather interesting analogy," said James amusedly as he walked up to them. He and Lily had gone into Gringotts to get some galleons out for Harry's supplies. "Isn't my son a little too young to be hearing your wistful talks about true love, Siri?"

He had to be glared at by Sirius before working out that something was wrong. Lily was quicker, seeing immediately that Harry was upset and moving to hug him. She ran her hands over him in a way that both was comforting and let her know if he had been injured. She wasn't sure if that was a motherly instinct, or simply a habit she'd fallen into, being the mother of the Boy-Who-Lived.

"What's wrong?" James asked his friends quietly.

"He's afraid of old Ollivander," Sirius replied.

"Weren't we all," James chuckled and then sobered, his gaze going to his son. "Until we learned that there were scarier things."

They watched Lily coax Harry into the store, each man silent as they relived their memories for a few painful minutes. Terrible things had happened to them and few of them were shared. Sirius had lost his brother to torture. Remus had lost his freedom to a werewolf's bite. James had very nearly lost his wife and young child to the Dark Lord.

They stood in silent remembrance until Sirius made a joke about James knowing what being wistful for true love was like in Hogwarts, and Remus tried to stop James from tackling him over it. Inwardly, all three thought that they were grateful for the other two.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

When it was over and he had gotten his wand, Harry couldn't remember why he'd been so worried about it. Mr Ollivander had been a little strange. He seemed to recognise people by the wands they had bought from him rather than their names, which had surprised his mother somewhat. But he was nice and not very frightening, and had gotten Harry a wand that he thought was quite beautiful.

'Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple' was what he'd said. He didn't know what that meant, but he had of course heard about phoenixes and thought it cool that one of their feathers was in his wand.

Harry had wanted to try all sorts of spells now that he could do them, the kind that he had read about in the wizarding books they had at home. Lily had told him that he couldn't and that at Hogwarts he'd have all the time he wanted to learn proper magic. He had promised not to try to learn magic on his own, but planned to ask his dad or Sirius to teach him some spells.

Remus would tell his mother, he just knew it. But Sirius and Dad would understand, and as long as Mum didn't work it out he thought he'd learn quite a bit before he even got to school.

His mood considerably better, he skipped about Diagon Alley, peering into shop windows and talking excitedly with his parents. No one had tried to take photos of him yet, possibly because there were so many families walking around preparing to send their children off to Hogwarts that their group was quite normal. It was shaping up to be a rather good day.

"So we'll get your robes and your books next, and then head over to Fortescue's," James told him as they walked and Harry nodded trustingly back.

"I rather think not," said Lily.

"Oh come one, Lils! Think of it as a treat for Harry. He's done so well today, with half the shopkeepers fawning over him and the other half asking him odd questions. Haven't you Harry?" James gave him a conspiratorial wink.

Harry laughed at that, but didn't join the conversation. The ice cream at Florean Fortescue's was very good, but Sirius and Remus had been slipping him Chocolate Frogs all day. Something he was sure his mother had noticed, after one of them jumped out of his hands and onto the sleeve of her robe, and he had pretended he wanted to hug her right then to get it back.

"I don't think it's a good idea," Lily told him, but it was a tone of voice that said she'd already decided that they would go and just wanted to see what James would do to get her approval.

As James fully well knew, otherwise Harry thought he might have been a bit more persuasive with his next words. "It's been a long day, you know. My feet are getting really sore. And I'm not even carrying that cauldron, Remus' shoes must be wearing utterly thin by now."

"Oh, yes," Remus said as though the cauldron was ten times heavier than Harry knew it to be. "I can feel the concrete against my toes!"

They were pushing it a little bit, since the cauldron and everything else they'd bought had been put under a Shrinking Charm and slipped into a pouch the size of Harry's hand. Now that he thought on it, he wasn't even sure that Remus was the one who was carrying it...

But Lily laughed at their dramatics, and when James asked her again if they could go she agreed. He kissed her by way of thanks. Sirius and Remus discussed ice cream flavours awkwardly until they were done. Harry didn't feel awkward, but it wasn't very interesting either and he watched the people walking ahead of them instead.

Diagon Alley was one of those places where the people were as interesting as the shops. Today there were a lot of students, some soon-to-be first years like him as well as some older kids who walked around looking a little bored of the whole thing.

A few people hadn't realised that they could use Shrinking Charms or didn't know how to. They walked very slowly and often dropped things. A few of these families didn't look too bothered by that, and seemed to be having a lot more fun than the people around them. Others appeared tired and irritated, but were still polite to the people who tried to help them or that they ran into.

The Muggle families were the most fun to watch. Parents who had recently found out that their child was magical were easy to spot, as they walked around looking very dazed and trying to count their money. They dressed strangely, Harry thought. His own parents didn't mind wearing Muggle clothes every now and then and he felt comfortable in them, but sometimes a man would walk by wearing a shirt that was too big for him and Harry would wonder why he hadn't just used a spell to fit it properly, like his mother did. Not having magic must be very difficult.

He caught a glimpse of red hair, and stood as tall as he was able to to follow it. Sure enough, the crowd shifted and he could see the Weasleys. George noticed him and waved before pointing him out to Fred, who waved furiously. Molly gave him a smile, but Arthur was leading the family away from the Potters and it couldn't be helped. Harry just waved back to his friends and hoped that they would run into each other again later.

It was so funny, to be recognised just for the colour of your hair. Harry had his father's black hair, rather than his mother's distinguishable red, and black was pretty common. It would be hard to pick Harry out in a crowd, but you could spot the twins almost immediately.

A woman walking past had purple hair and his eyes followed it for as long as they could before it became impolite. Quite a few people had brown hair, and that was even worse than black. He noted a few darker reds, but none of them were as loud as the Weasleys' colour was. Suddenly his eyes seized on a blonde so pale it was almost silver.

Harry hadn't known such a colour existed. He watched the hair admiringly. It was long and straight and when its owner moved around it didn't just _move_, rather it _flowed_ as if it were liquid. The head turned and he gasped. The hair belonged to a man, which surprised him for a moment though he didn't quite know why. That passed and he became afraid that the man would get angry at him for staring. He wondered how he could apologise when he stood so far away.

But the man smiled at him, as warmly as Lily did. Harry felt instantly relieved that he wasn't in trouble, and hoped that maybe if the man was nice enough to smile at him he would also let him touch his hair. Just to see how it felt, because Harry was partially convinced that it would be liquid and run over his fingers like water did. The man's smile became a little more pronounced, and Harry realised that he could only know that if he had been staring without realising it, like he did sometimes, and wondered again how he was going to say sorry when he couldn't even walk over there because he was with his family and also there were lots of people and-

"Harry!" Sirius grabbed his shoulder and he jumped. "Ah, sorry. I just needed to stop you for a minute. Your dad wants to check something in this store. We'll just wait outside for a bit, unless you want to go in as well?"

"Okay, yes, right," Harry said absently, looking back to where the man had stood.

Sirius stopped him. "What are you doing? Oh, did you see someone you know?"

"Uhh..." Harry hesitated, not sure how to answer him. He was old enough to know that 'I saw a nice looking man and I wanted to ask him if I could touch his hair a bit' wasn't the best thing to say to someone who was practically your guardian. Despite that, he couldn't help but glance to where the man should have been...

He was gone. But in his place was a family with hair of that same colour, the pale blonde he'd become momentarily obsessed with. A father and mother, so similar in looks that they could have been related, with a boy standing between them to show that they were in fact a couple.

All three were elegantly dressed and somehow looked emotionless and dismissive at the same time. They were unnerving, but not frightening. If they started talking in wand sizes like Ollivander had though, that might have been a different story.

The boy looked to be about his age. His clothes looked too old for him, but a good deal about the boy looked too old for him. His hair was slicked back and Harry felt sorry for it. Such a beautiful colour, confined by gel to stay closer to his head than was good for anyone. His father's hair was hanging free, so Harry couldn't understand why he had to torture it like that.

The father said something and they all began to walk down the alley – and towards Harry. He didn't doubt that it was unintentional, they were looking past him, but it was a narrow part of the alley and if they didn't catch him staring now they would soon. He willed himself desperately to look away. Honestly, this shouldn't be so hard.

But there was something...just _something_, drawing his eye to that family. It was so different to his own, maybe that was it? Maybe he had seen them somewhere before and his mind was just taking a while to place them. It was fairly pathetic as excuses went, he admitted, but it was good enough.

"Those people, Sirius. Who are they?" Harry asked.

To his immense surprise, Sirius snarled. It was enough to pull his gaze away from the family. He watched in horrified fascination as Sirius stalked over to Lily, tugging at her arm in a way that would earn Harry a week without his broom. When he had her attention, he practically spat his words out. "The _Malfoys _are heading over here."

Understanding hit Harry at the same time his mother changed before his eyes. One moment was smiling and talking with Remus, and the next she looked the way the Weasleys' cat had when Fred had spelled it hairless. Not nearly as ugly, but just as hostile.

He knew why she and Sirius had reacted so strongly, at least in part. There was no love lost between the Potters and the Malfoys. Harry needed to defeat Voldemort in order to survive, like the prophecy had said. Even knowing this Lucius Malfoy had allied himself with the Dark Lord. It was as good as saying 'I would like your child to die', and the Potters couldn't forgive it.

Although Harry knew this, he didn't think it made much sense. Lucius might not want to side with Voldemort, had anyone asked him? That this was the first time he had ever seen the man said a lot to Harry about how much they even talked. And if Lucius was as bad as they seemed to think, that didn't mean that his wife or child were the same. He supposed hatred wasn't very rational.

Harry was good at knowing when it was okay to say something and when it wasn't. He kept his thoughts to himself, and decided to appreciate the look of the Malfoys while he still could.

By the way Remus stood in front of him, all but blocking him from sight, he didn't agree with his decision.

"Remus!" he hissed at him.

"Harry, these aren't good people. Just stay back for now, okay?" Remus reached one hand back, searching for his head. No doubt so that he could rub it. Harry was annoyed at him right now, and ducked away. Eventually he gave up, pulling his hand back with a sigh.

He watched his mother step forward, her expression emptier than he had ever seen it. There was anger in her eyes. She had spoken about the Malfoys to him before, she and Sirius. It wasn't new to him that she hated them, but he had never seen her look quite this way.

He noticed his dad's hands were clenched into fists, and Sirius looked as if he might transform at any moment and jump on the approaching Malfoys, his grey eyes flashing.

"Lily Potter. How pleasant to see you here." It was a voice he didn't recognise, deep and faintly amused. Lucius Malfoy, then.

"Malfoy," his mother replied, sounding as though she were speaking through gritted teeth.

Lucius didn't say anything to her then, but Harry's father jerked back as though he had been slapped. Harry tried to look around Remus to see what he had done. This was an odd discussion, one between rivals who hated each other so much that they could become mortally offended without even exchanging words. Barring the man with the beautiful hair, this was the most interesting thing Harry had seen all day.

He was pushed gently back by Remus, who had noticed him moving around. Harry scowled and then stopped, touching his face in surprise. His features had scrunched up in a way he didn't think they had before. He was always smiling, or being composed for the papers, or crying or getting angry. This was new.

But to be thought about later. He brought his attention back to what was going on.

"So what are you all doing at Diagon Alley today, Lily?" A soft, feminine voice this time. It was Lucius' wife, the one with the odd name...Narcissa. Unlike her husband, she sounded genuinely sociable, although there was something underneath her words that Harry couldn't quite name.

If he had thought Lily looked angry before, she was _furious_ now. James stepped forward to physically restrain her, as though she would hit the other woman! Harry was now completely confused.

"Shopping, Mrs Malfoy," James replied in a manner that wasn't friendly but wasn't aggressive either – it just was. "Of course. For our son, you may have heard of him, one way or the other." That was sharper. He meant to infer something.

"I don't believe we've met your Harry," said Lucius. "Unfortunate. Draco here is also going to Hogwarts, and they are of the same age. Maybe your son and mine could have gotten along?"

James' eyes narrowed. "There are things more likely," he said shortly.

Narcissa laughed. It was lilting and Harry liked the sound of it.

"The Potters are as charming as ever, I see," Lucius noted. He sounded as though he shared the amusement of his wife.

But Harry couldn't be sure. He was missing half of this conversation by not being able to see the Malfoys. Maybe as he had said that, his eyes had been angry? Or genuinely amused, or even appreciative? He wanted to know what they meant by what they were saying.

He wasn't good enough to understand it by words alone, but was aware enough to realise there was something more than words. He was young and still learning how to interact with people who were very good at it. As the Boy-Who-Lived, it was an important skill. There was only so much Harry could learn from his parents and friends, who were all very honest with him. From the two adult Malfoys he already knew he could learn a lot.

And beyond that, he was curious.

Harry stepped backwards and around Remus before he could realise and grab him. He studied Lucius and was satisfied with the amusement he had seen there. Narcissa was harder to read than her husband, he realised. He didn't understand what had made his mother so angry at her. She seemed the picture of casual politeness.

The boy – Draco – looked solemn. He didn't appear to have laughed when his parents did. Harry stepped closer to him, searching his eyes and features for whatever the boy was hiding. He caught a trace of confusion in his passive eyes before Draco's entire face shifted into an expression of annoyance. It smoothed quickly, but Harry had seen enough.

He smiled at Draco. The other boy kept his face blank because he wasn't good enough to feign emotion like his parents. His face was young, and honest. And he hadn't understood what their parents were talking about either. It made Harry feel infinitely better about his own ignorance.

His eyes flicked back to the older Malfoys. Lucius appeared to be studying him in the same way he had just studied Draco, and some part of Harry hoped that he came up to par. A small smile quirked Narcissa's lips as she looked at him and he noted with some surprise that it seemed genuine.

Lily's hands fell on his shoulders and pulled him back against her. "Harry! When we tell you to stay back, you stay back!"

There was fear in her voice and Harry was instantly remorseful. "Sorry. I won't do it again," he told her with a sheepish smile, but he looked back to Lucius after a moment. He couldn't shake the feeling that he could learn a lot from this man, if he was ever in a position to be able to.

That Draco's composure was flawed showed that he had not been raised coldly. Lucius and Narcissa must actually care for their son, or he would be far more skilled than he was right now. The boy showed emotion, and it was to their credit. Harry knew now that he could never be convinced to hate the Malfoys as much as his parents did.

Whatever they were, they were also a family, a real family like the one he was a part of. He placed his hands on the arms that Lily had wrapped around him, content with what he had discovered.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Notes - **I'm still getting the hang of this, writing the different characters' points of view while keeping it in the third person. Sometimes it's what they're thinking and other times just what they're doing. I'll get better at it the more I write, but of course I hope it's easy enough to read right now! Please leave a review if you liked it or think I could make some changes. I'm also curious about what people would like to see happen in this story, as I'm in the middle of writing it and could definitely switch things around at this stage.


	3. First Impressions

Lucius hadn't been happy to come across the Potters when he was trying to buy school items for his son. There were far too many people about and the crowds were making him irritable. He was most at home when it was only him and a few others. When 'a few' went into the dozens and they were all confined to such a ridiculously tight space, his enjoyment lessened considerably.

When a Muggle woman ran into him and dropped her child's books and potion ingredients at his feet, he almost hexed her. It was Narcissa's gentle touch to his arm that stopped him before he could act rashly. He was a Malfoy, and Malfoys didn't hex women because they bumped into them.

At least, not in public.

Finding the Potters amidst all those people had been an unfortunate accident. Draco still needed a wand, and Lucius, finally tiring of being jostled on all sides, had decided that now was the time to get it. Ollivanders Wand Shop was situated in a part of Diagon Alley that was usually empty. It was a darker, more closed-off part of the alley. Lucius imagined that might intimidate some people.

There were certainly a few things he could think of that were more frightening than some walls. Himself, for example. If there were any people settled there, he planned on scaring them off so he could have a few minutes of peace while Draco picked out a wand.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lucius caught sight of hair strikingly similar to his own. He turned his head quickly but not without grace. His hair, and the hair of his wife and child, was the mark of a pureblood. It was respectable, and almost exclusive to the Malfoy line. If there was someone else out there who had it, then he had to know. If, Merlin forbid, it was a Muggle, not even his wife could stop him from hexing them bald.

He came face-to-face with a young man. He appeared to be in his early twenties, little more than a youth. It was no one that he recognised, although this was almost certainly a pureblood and unless Lucius was mistaken, someone from his own line.

The man reminded him of himself, but he was slimmer and softer-looking. It was partly youth and partly that he appeared to have not seen anything so terrible as to put new lines in his skin and hardness in his eyes. His hair fell to his collarbone and was neat, likely without effort as Lucius' own was. The clothes he wore were strange, but when he thought on them he found he could not concentrate. His gaze ran back to his face.

His eyes, Merlin, his eyes. They were a darker gray than he had seen on any Malfoy, and stronger than that unassuming body would have suggested. As he looked into them, Lucius was reminded of a thunderstorm. But they were calm, somehow holding both the power of a storm and the gentleness that came before it. As though the man was dangerous, but he had no cause to harm anyone. But the potential threat was there, clear in his eyes.

He was striking and, Lucius did not find it hard to admit, more _beautiful _than himself. He wondered absently what Narcissa would make of him, and then pushed the thought aside. Lucius began to reach out the man, intending for them to become at least acquaintances. "I-" he started but stopped when someone walked between them, obscuring the man from view. When they passed, he was no longer there.

If he had not seen far worse, Lucius would have been spooked.

But he had, so he set the encounter aside and murmured to his wife that they should head to Ollivanders. She consented with a minute nod and nudged Draco slightly with a hand on his back. The boy responded almost immediately.

They were training him well, Lucius thought. They had put it off for so long that he had feared he might no longer be mouldable. In that Draco had surprised him, rather than having their affection prevent him being able to learn deceit, it made him willing to learn it out of love for his parents. Under their tutelage he was learning quickly.

The first thing to learn was unquestioning obedience. From the way he allowed his mother to direct him through the crowd without being told where they were headed, Draco showed that he had already understood that concept. To be unquestioningly obedient did not mean ignoring the other person's motive, nor did it mean doing exactly what you were told without fail.

Draco was to think and evaluate, and obey when he deemed it appropriate and question only inwardly until he was proficient enough to riddle out the answers on his own. As it was, he was doing his parents proud.

When he was able to see the Potters at all through the unending crowds of people, it was too late for him to steer the family away from them. He had to settle for looking as though, while unexpected, this encounter was quite a bit of luck rather than something that made him want to pull at his carefully groomed hair.

Lucius approached them, seeing even from some distance the intense anger that was being directed at him. He did not warn Narcissa of the imminent confrontation, he knew she would have seen it already, perhaps even before he did. It was in her hands what to tell Draco. He preferred she not say anything to their son, so that he would be able to see his lessons in action and understand better of his own volition just why they were necessary.

As they neared, Lily stepped forward. So she was to be their delegate. A position no doubt self-appointed, loath as he was to admit it James was in truth quite a worthy opponent and would have been the better choice of the four that he saw. Lily's anger crackled off of her in a way that was quite unpleasant, while James' merely simmered behind his eyes.

That traitor Black he saw was with them, standing off to one side with James slightly in front of him. He looked positively rabid. Narcissa would be enjoying that, he knew. She had married into the Malfoys but no pureblood willingly abandoned their own line, even through marriage. She was a Black as much as she was a Malfoy, and that dog no longer had any claim to that legacy.

James Potter had stood between them to protect them from Sirius, he figured. Lucius had to commend the man's foresight, but felt the slight to his ability. As much as he might actually be protecting one party from the other, he was saying that Lucius was not capable of adequately defending himself. He wondered if it were intentional.

"Lily Potter," he said in acknowledgement. He pushed aside his annoyance at how this day was turning out, and forced some amusement into his tone and expression. Nothing would bother her more. "How pleasant to see you here."

"Malfoy," she threw back at him. How artless.

He let his expression show his disdain. An eyebrow lifted almost imperceptibly and his gaze hardened. If the girl had any ounce of skill in her at all, she would recognise the insult. Lucius did not voice his reply, but it should have been apparent from his expression. _'Not even worth a first name, am I?' _it said clearly to anyone who looked for it. _'All that shows me is your immaturity, you stupid, ignorant girl.'_

As was to be expected, Lily didn't as much as blink. James however pulled back violently, his eyes filled with anger in much the same way his wife's were. His was different though, it was a direct threat, not simply intense emotion. It told him that he would hurt Lucius if he found him to be improper towards Lily, even if she didn't realise it.

Even when they betrayed their heritage and married Mudbloods, the purebloods were still so far above them. It amused him that James would probably be even angrier to hear his approval.

He noticed that the wolf standing on Lily's other side was shifting around somewhat. It was a minor detail and one that he filed away, should it prove important later. For now it meant nothing to him.

"So what are you all doing at Diagon Alley today, Lily?" Narcissa asked. Her manner was friendly and appropriately distant. There was nothing about her to be faulted. One would have to know Narcissa nearly as well as he did to realise that her actual idea of friendliness was telling someone before she tried to poison them. This was false, but impeccably so. He loved his wife dearly.

There was a condescending note in her tone but that should go without saying. They were speaking with Lily Potter, a Mudblood who had tacked a pureblood name to her own and seemed to think nothing of it.

Of all things it was that that Lily lost her temper over. Then again, she had always been more aware when it came to Narcissa. She hated her far more than she had ever hated Lucius, quite inexplicably. But his wife was rather good at that.

She almost threw herself at Narcissa, stopped where she was by James who held her tightly until she settled. It was he who eventually spoke. "Shopping, Mrs Malfoy, of course. For our son, you may have heard of him," his eyes narrowed, "...one way or the other."

Lucius almost laughed. It was not the most skilful manoeuvre he had seen, but it was impressive and especially so when one considered the source.

"I don't believe we've met your Harry. Unfortunate." And it was. It would have served him well in many ways if he had so much as laid eyes on the Boy-Who-Lived in person. "Draco here is also going to Hogwarts, and they are of the same age. Maybe your son and mine could have gotten along?"

It was a vain hope. The day a Potter and a Malfoy, as they were now, got along was the day he traded his cane for a pink umbrella. Regardless Lucius had to admit that it would be good for both sides if their children were friends. So long as Lucius didn't end up killing Harry, as they were so ready to accuse him of being prepared to do, there could be some semblance of amicability.

Not that he wanted to tie his family to one made up of a woman with hair the same as her temperament, a man who clearly had defied his potential to associate with people well below his standing, a traitor Black, a werewolf and whatever Harry was turning out to be like under their influence.

But Harry was going to be the most powerful person in the wizarding world at some point or another, and being allied with him in whatever capacity would work for the Malfoys. Aside from that, if Lucius fell to their Dark Lord's petty whims or alongside him, as the case may be, he wanted – _needed _– to know that Draco would be safe. Narcissa could protect herself, but his son may be irreversibly tangled up in matters beyond him simply due to Lucius.

He would not forgive himself for that. He trained his son now so that he could more easily evade the net that might fall upon him later in life.

"There are things more likely," James replied. Again, Lucius had to stifle his laughter. It was true enough. Their sons becoming close was less likely than Lupin over there finding a cure for his bloody curse, it was less likely than the Dark Lord overcoming a prophecy without being defeated by a bloody one-year-old and essentially instigating his own demise. It was practically impossible.

He slipped an arm around Narcissa's waist, and his grip tightened as a wave of bitterness washed over him. She would undoubtedly think him weak for the gesture, but as his beloved wife she would also understand what was behind it. If he didn't regain himself, she would become disgusted and leave him. But as long as he was Lucius she would be his Narcissa, and support him in the rare but increasingly less so moments of vulnerability.

When Narcissa's lovely and completely false laughter rang out, he knew that if she could touch him she would have done.

It was enough to regain himself. "The Potters are as charming as ever, I see," he said.

As if to prove his point, a young boy stepped out from behind Lupin. Lucius saw him before he ever saw Remus' look of dismay at having lost him. Lucius saw instantly what had happened. They had tried to protect Harry Potter from the Malfoys they so hated, by hiding him out in the open. James' earlier slight with Sirius paled in comparison to this insult.

What made the offense easier to bear was that Harry appeared to have been there against his will, if the werewolf's shifting about earlier was any indication. Lucius was curious as to why the boy would come out now, but he allowed him to act first. Admittedly he half-expected one of the stunned adults standing around him to grab Harry and Apparate right away.

But for whatever reason, they didn't appear to even move as Harry stepped easily towards their sworn enemies, staring up at them with an expression on his face that would have thrown Lucius completely off-balance if he hadn't sparred with James earlier. Before today, he would have thought a Potter incapable of it.

It was a look of muted curiosity, a look that said that Harry knew there was something to know and that careful study was the only way to uncover it. He had seen that look on his own face throughout his life, and recently on Draco's as he learned pureblood etiquette.

It was not limited by age or gender or ability, but it was limited to the wizarding elite. It was always respectable, for the person wearing it was showing that he wanted to learn something that he had recognised was beyond him. It was a look of study that remained entirely proper.

Knowledge was, after all, valued. Although weakness was frowned upon, it was not weakness but strength that led to this expression, the strength and skill that it took to evaluate and realise that the only way to attain this piece of knowledge was to openly and actively search for it.

Harry might not realise it – no, he certainly did not realise it – but he was asking the Malfoys to teach him what they knew in the most natural and esteemed way there was.

Lucius held his breath as Harry's eyes searched his face, and exhaled when they left to study Narcissa's. He noted with some amusement that the boy's brow furrowed slightly when he looked at Narcissa. She was able to hide her emotions from the best. If this child had been able to read her, Lucius would have renounced the Dark Lord and changed his allegiances to the Light.

His inspection of Draco was more drawn-out and it occurred to Lucius that it could just as easily be that Harry found his son's face hard to read as that he found it very informative. He may have to ask him that someday, if he ever got the chance. Which was looking increasingly more likely by the second.

Finally, Harry smiled at Draco, showing that his study of him had ended. That there was warmth in that smile seemed so impossible to Lucius that for a moment he doubted what he had seen. But it was true, whatever the boy had seen in his son he appeared to have liked it. Within two minutes the number of possibilities for the Malfoys' futures had multiplied many times over.

This child was incredible. It was a shock to admit it, but he really was above and beyond all of Lucius' expectations. What did he have, what was there in his mind that set him apart from the rest of his circle, let alone the rest of the magical population?

Without warning Harry's eyes met his, briefly, before returning to Narcissa's. There was that warmth again – he appeared to like her.

Thank Merlin.

Lily seemed to have started out of her reverie and lunged forward, pulling her son back to her and wrapping her arms around him protectively. The look in her eyes was so wild and suspicious that she reminded him briefly of a Knarl. "Harry! When we tell you to stay back, you stay back!"

"Sorry. I won't do it again," Harry said, looking at up at his mother and giving her a smile before looking back at Lucius. He looked very intent, on what Lucius couldn't be sure. He got a strange feeling from the boy in those moments, but fortunately it passed when the look on his face did, relaxing into something more casual as his hands came up to rest on his mother's arms.

Rubbish. Of course the boy would do it again, he already knew enough about him to realise that. He was cautious but Lucius had the distinct impression that he preferred to be apologetic than obedient and uninformed. His earlier hopes that he and Draco would become friends had faded somewhat, now. He did not know what Draco and Harry would do to each other, his son with his loving obedience and James' with his uncompromising rebelliousness.

He supposed that it was to be expected that Harry inherit traits from both of his parents.

James took a place at his wife's side, placing a hand semi-formally on her shoulder. It was enough to offer comfort in a way familiar to her and still maintain face in front of a rival family. Lily looked as if she wanted to lean in to him, and Lucius was surprised when she didn't. Perhaps she did have some understanding of these games that they played.

"Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy," he addressed them. "This is our son, Harry Potter. I don't believe he has been formally introduced to him."

"A pleasure," said Lucius, with a short bow.

"He is a lovely child. I'm sure he will grow up well and do you credit," Narcissa said softly.

From the look on Harry's face his mother's hold on him had just gotten tighter, but she didn't react to the sound of his wife's voice the way she usually seemed to, a fact that Lucius was grateful for.

It was only once that Lily had actually managed to attack Narcissa. Lucius had been forced to take Draco with him on an impromptu holiday for three weeks, and then keep to himself for another month. He didn't want to think who had suffered her rage in their absence. He knew someone had, or the Manor wouldn't have been standing on their return.

"He already does us credit," James replied. Lucius would have sneered at that. It was such a Potter thing to say. "But I am grateful for your words," he finished.

The last sentence only slightly redeemed him in Lucius' eyes, but it appeared enough for Narcissa, who inclined her head. "If you would excuse us, James. We're headed to Ollivanders now to get Draco his wand."

"Of course. Be well," he said by way of farewell, inclining his head as she had done.

Lucius noted that Harry's face was beginning to turn an odd-looking shade of red. His mother did not appear to be as unaffected by their parting civilly as she seemed. He chuckled quietly to himself when they had turned away.

They made their way down the alley, only speaking of what had happened when they were certain that there weren't many people around to hear it.

"I quite liked him," Narcissa mused. "Intelligent. Not nearly as cautious as he should be, but I don't think he took on more than he knew he could handle."

"High praise, my dear." Lucius raised an eyebrow at her. She looked at him for a minute before moving over to kiss him on the cheek, her lips lingering for a second too long in the way she knew made him crazy. "Did you really like him that much?" he asked her, his voice uncharacteristically soft. It was his way of saying that he was asking her a question honestly, and wanted an honest answer in return.

She drew away from him, smiling in a way that didn't reach her eyes. "I did."

"He liked you, I think. Had a lovely look on his face just before his Mudblood of a mother captured him," Lucius said, scorn audible in his voice.

Narcissa simply gave him a look that had him straightening his back, smoothing down his hair and composing his face and voice so that he looked as flawless as he had that morning, before this dreadful day had started.

Although, that meeting had been quite enlightening. Lucius appreciated that something had happened without him needing to instigate it beforehand, annoying as it had seemed to him just half an hour before.

As much as he tried to push them down, his hopes kept bubbling up inside of him. There was a chance, however slight, that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Make-The-Dark-Lord-Completely-Unbearable, might be able to carry his family through all of this.

There was no guarantee that Lucius would make it through the upcoming war, but he intended to do everything he could to make certain that his wife and child not only survived it, but lived well afterwards. He would give all of himself for that to happen, to the Dark Lord or the young Harry Potter.

And as much as he hoped that he could provide for his family, he selfishly hoped that at the end of it all Draco would understand that he had done it for him. Lucius wanted his son to think well of him, but it wasn't necessary and protecting Draco was more important than feeling appreciated because he did.

He looked to Draco, who was standing in front of Ollivanders looking up at the large, worn sign. Lucius' eyes narrowed when he saw that he was trembling slightly, almost unnoticeably. He moved to stand beside him, his wife still some feet away and watching both of them.

"We're going to go inside and get you your wand. Then we have to stop by the apothecary for an ingredient your mother ordered. And then we will return home," Lucius told him.

"Yes," Draco replied, his voice completely steady. His hands still trembled at his sides.

"Are you going to tell me what is wrong?" his father asked. He always gave Draco freedom to make his own choices when it came to discussing things. It was one thing to order him to the apothecary, it was quite another to order him to talk about what made him sad, or why he didn't want to do something. Lucius was conscious that his son was a person and should be treated like one.

Draco's head hung, his eyes on the ground and his hands alternating erratically between trembling and not trembling. "I don't like Harry Potter."

Lucius was silent for several long moments. "That's unfortunate. Well. Either it's good practice for you, or you'll have a rival who is more than worthy of you. Now, shall we go and get your wand?"

His son's hands abruptly stopped trembling, and soon his neck straightened again, slowly, as if his head was very heavy. "Yes, Father."

As they stepped inside, Lucius resisted the urge to hold his wife's hand and admitted to himself, in the security of his own mind, that he had no idea what was going to happen to them.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Notes - **I love Lucius. I think he's one of those characters you're just as happy reading being the bad guy as the secretly good guy. Whether he's following Voldemort because he agrees with him or he was pushed into it for whatever reason, I just find him incredibly likable. That may be why this chapter was very easy to write. Any other Lucius fans out there? Leave a review and say so, then I can justify writing from his point of view again. :)


	4. Perceiving is Believing

Draco wasn't jealous of the other children whose parents let them play and run around, but he did wish he could show the affection that he shared with his mother and father in public as well as in private.

He didn't mind being led with a hand on his back or staying silent while his parents talked. But he missed the way his mother touched his hair when they were at home, like she wasn't even thinking about it, although she surely was. Or the way his father smiled at him, and carried him around sometimes, lifting him up when he couldn't reach things rather than just getting it for him himself.

When they got home, he was going to kiss his mother on _both_ cheeks and hug her until she shook him off, Draco vowed.

Later, when they were standing in front of the Potters, Draco decided that he'd keep hugging her even when she tried to shake him off. He was going to need it after this bit of tension.

The red-haired terror – Lily Potter, he should say – was scaring him quite a bit. At several points she looked as though she were about to strike his mother. Draco wouldn't react or interfere if she did so, as was proper. But he wouldn't forgive her to say the least.

James Potter was different. His father had told him that he was a pureblood traitor, and had willingly married Lily for some reason that Draco couldn't understand. Surely he would have thought of his own parents before making such a decision? Even if it were to rebel against them, Draco had no idea why he would choose this woman. She was terrifying.

He almost flinched when Lily had to be physically restrained by her husband from attacking Narcissa. Fortunately, his mask held. As a Mudblood she wasn't doing very well at making Draco see any good in them.

"I don't believe we've met your Harry. Unfortunate. Draco here is also going to Hogwarts, and they are of the same age. Maybe your son and mine could have gotten along?" said his father.

Draco mentally started when he was mentioned. He didn't know if his father was serious or not, so he was forced to consider how he felt about the possibility. If Harry was anything like his mother, or even his father who was talking skilfully but had still chosen to marry her, Draco didn't think they could get along. He would be rather intimidating and a Malfoy heir had better things to do than be bullied by a half-blood.

If he wasn't, well...his unfortunate family could be overlooked. If Harry managed to partner himself to a pureblood with more romantic notions than sense, all would be forgiven. He would be good enough for most circles. Never the best, but the better ones.

And of course some people would be willing to accept on the basis of his status as the Boy-Who-Lived. If he ended up defeating the Dark Lord he could probably wheedle himself back into good society, without marrying a pureblood to do it.

Draco decided he wouldn't know until he actually met the other boy. If he liked him, as a Malfoy he would move mountains to have the sentiment returned. If he didn't, then he was hardly worth his time. Indifference was preferable, but as he had not met Harry yet he didn't know which course his feelings were going to take.

At least he had another month before they left for Hogwarts. If he spoke well enough his mother would tell him about the Potters and he could have a better understanding of their son before he ever met him. Information was important, and that way he could both begin to understand Harry Potter as well as show his parents that he was grasping his lessons.

He'd have to ask about their friends as well, he realised. Draco eyed them. This was one of the things his parents were teaching him to do, to identify someone before they even told you their name. If you couldn't uncover who they were, there were other things to be seen in their appearance to tell you about who you were dealing with.

The man off to the left was tall and dark, well dressed but not carrying himself as well as he could have. His obvious rage might have had something to do with that. The look in his eyes was almost animalistic and Draco had to resist the urge to shudder.

A ring glinted on his right hand, and that alongside his clothes told Draco that he was a pureblood. The wealthy kind, but bedraggled and impolite enough to suggest that he was little more than his money. Disowned, he concluded. Likely for keeping company with people like the Potters, who certainly didn't have the best standing in pureblood society of late.

Or, he conceded, he had chosen to leave his family. It seemed impossible to Draco, but it was a possibility and Lucius had taught him that he could not dismiss something simply because it seemed ridiculous or foolish. People were quite capable of being both.

The second man, now. He stood off to the right, his posture good but not dignified and his expression respectful but not friendly. Of the four of them, this man was acting the most appropriately. He didn't seem to share the anger of his friends, but there was a coldness in his eyes as he looked at Draco's father that seemed out of place in his features.

Draco thought he might have liked him, were it not for the poor quality of his robes and the complete lack of effort evident in his appearance. His chin sported the beginnings of a beard, which Draco stared at with pained curiosity. He hadn't ever seen his father anything other than clean-shaven, and the idea of facial hair had always struck him as being rather bizarre. Draco was glad that it would be some years before he had to worry about anything like that.

There were bags under the man's eyes and he looked tired. Honestly, he clearly couldn't take care of himself at all. It was a wonder the Potters hadn't interfered. Maybe they didn't like him all that much? He kept looking. His first judgment usually wasn't the right one.

To his surprise, he saw that there were faint scars on the man's face. They were long and thin, running parallel to each other as if some kind of animal had clawed at his skin. Draco mentally berated himself for not having seen them before. He wondered if he were looking too hard, and causing himself to miss the obvious.

Did the man work with creatures? Draco didn't see the appeal in that line of work, but still there were people who did it, willing to risk their lives and appendages to care for dragons or the like. If he did, he was either very good or had just started, since those scars were the only ones he could see. What kind of animal could do that, anyway?

It struck him and he resisted the urge to shrink away from the man. He was undoubtedly a werewolf. Draco had only met one once before, so that Lucius could show him the signs to look for. She had been nearing the transformation and had reacted very savagely to their attention. It had frightened him. His earlier near-like of the man was pushed aside and replaced by fear and resentment.

The man moved slightly, and Draco saw a flash of black hair at his side before it was once again hidden. He hoped his father had seen that. Not that there was any way to let him know.

Minutes later there was no reason to. A boy stepped out, not noticing or not caring that the people around him had stiffened in shock. He walked over to the Malfoys, giving his parents a very familiar look before turning to Draco.

They were about the same height and Draco guessed the same age, but there the similarities ended. He had short black hair that was so messy it looked deliberate, with pieces sticking out in all different directions. Draco's own hair was clean and slicked down in an effort to look more mature. If he looked older, this boy's hair made him look very young. Vaguely, Draco felt superior.

His skin was tanned in much the same way as his father's, his eyes wide and green like his mother's and his features a pleasant mix of both parents. He looked out through wiry glasses that Draco dearly wished to destroy. They had no place on anyone's face and made the boy's eyes appear almost absurdly large.

Draco thought he knew a charm that Vince had taught him once, that made objects twist around and dance ridiculously. Perhaps he could persuade this boy to let him use it.

Only barely visible, hidden mostly by his dark hair, the edge of a scar could be seen on his forehead. Draco resisted the urge to reach out and touch it and felt proud of himself for the effort. As if in congratulation, the boy smiled at him. It was a nice smile, almost affectionate, and it sent Draco reeling.

As those green eyes moved back to his parents' Draco took the seconds to evaluate. Or try to evaluate. Something was stopping him from thinking clearly. His thoughts were evasive or distracted, and for the first time in his life Draco found that he couldn't get control of them. A part of his mind suggested that the boy had put some kind of spell on him, while another part insisted that it was something else. What exactly, it wasn't sure.

Even as his thoughts began to settle and fall back to where they had peacefully been, Draco could not understand what had just happened. Whatever it was, this strange boy was responsible.

He told himself that he did not like that, that he did not like the boy, even as that part of him shouted at him that he was wrong, and that what he was doing was very, very wrong.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

All the fireplaces at Malfoy Manor held magical flames. It was often hard to distinguish them from real ones; they produced warmth and light in the same way their counterparts did, but without the smoke and mess. If you looked into one of them, you would find they would not burn their image into your vision, and that they seemed to burn without fuel. They died only when you told them to and started up again in the same way.

Lucius was able to stand closely to one of these fireplaces, his left hand on the mantelpiece and his hair hanging past his face without fear. The fingers of his right hand were wrapped around a glass of Firewhisky. He did not drink from it, instead busying himself with staring into the fire with something akin to melancholy.

That Draco disliked Harry didn't mean anything. Yet somehow he felt as though something had been wrenched from him. His hopes, perhaps, that Harry would like his son and carry him through all that was to come. It was foolish for Lucius to feel the loss of something he had not even been assured of, but he did anyway.

He barely acknowledged Narcissa when slipped up behind him, placing a hand lightly on his hip and her chin on his shoulder.

"Husband," she said. Lucius knew that she wanted him to speak to her about what troubled him enough to stand in front of a fireplace and anguish into its flames. For Merlin's sake, he wasn't even drinking his Firewhisky. What was he acting so pathetic for?

He sighed, reaching up to set the glass on the mantel. "I fear I've been infected with the Potter stupidity."

Narcissa exhaled sharply in that way that meant she was honestly amused. "I wasn't aware that it was catching. Perhaps we should warn Draco."

"I wish I could say that he is already affected," he said more seriously. Lucius shook his head faintly. No, his son was not to be blamed for what he felt. Nor were the Potters, and in fact Harry had acted faultlessly towards Draco.

He of all people understood that emotions were often irrational. Part of the skill in presenting a composed face was anticipating your own reactions so that they could be swiftly and adequately masked. If Draco took a natural dislike to Harry there was nothing to be done. He would hide it but no doubt dislike the other boy's company and avoid it where possible. Lucius had been through the motions himself.

Narcissa's fingers stroked his waist lightly. She didn't say anything to his thoughtless remark, knowing that Lucius was already berating himself.

She spoke when enough time had passed. "He was an endearing child, was he not?" she asked him softly.

"Quite." Lucius turned his head towards his wife, not to see her but to return the intimacy she was showing him. "There was a good deal of potential."

"But the boy, he was likeable." The fingers stopped their soothing motion. Narcissa wanted something from him here, or was showing something to him that he could not have seen on his own.

Lucius was silent as he considered her words. "I did like what I saw of him," he said honestly.

"That should be enough," Narcissa murmured.

Unsure of the meaning behind his wife's words, but used to feeling as though she were beyond him, Lucius turn in her embrace so that they faced each other. He put an arm around her shoulders, his thumb rubbing soft circles into her shoulder. His hair fell across her arm as he leaned down to kiss her forehead tenderly.

Of course she was beyond him. He had always known that, and been grateful that she had deigned to love him as she did.

Her fingers splayed across his back, and her eyes closed briefly when his lips brushed against her skin. When the contact was gone, they opened and held his own. "You think that in one meeting, Draco knows his own feelings?" she chided gently.

"Did you see something?" Lucius trusted his wife's judgment implicitly.

"Something, yes," she whispered with just a trace of amusement as she moved to kiss his cheek. Her fingers reached up to brush a stray lock of his hair back into place, and Narcissa smiled.

Lucius found himself elated as all of his discarded hopes burst back into possibility at Narcissa's words. A genuine smile playing at his lips was the only indication he gave of how pleased he was, and pulled his wife a little closer to him. "Really," he said, leaning down to kiss the lobe of her ear.

She laughed at his sudden change in mood. It wasn't the pretty sound the Potters had heard earlier that day; it was just a little too harsh and a little too deep to be attractive. It was her real laugh and Lucius loved it, just like every other part of her.

Which he planned on showing her very soon.

As his hand came to rest on the small of her back, a memory returned to Lucius that had him pull away from her slightly. "Today, dear, there was a man..."

He broke off. How could he explain to her the man that he had seen in Diagon Alley? How he looked every inch a Malfoy but Lucius had not recognised him, and had all but vanished into thin air?

He couldn't. But that didn't stop him from trying. "I saw a young man. He was a Malfoy, Narcissa, I'm sure of it. He looked right at me. He was a Malfoy, but...I'd never seen him before. I don't know who he could belong to, how he could have been hidden from us, but he was right there..."

"I didn't see anyone like that," Narcissa said, running a hand over the back of his neck.

"He was standing just across from me. You didn't see him?" Lucius was confused, his certainty wavering.

She slipped a hand down to hold one of his, and kissed him. It was a hard kiss, close-mouthed and commanding. Tugging at his hand she started to lead her husband out of the room. "I didn't."

Perhaps he was unwell, or just so overwhelmed by the crowds that he had become a little unsettled. Lucius pushed any thoughts of the familiar young man from his mind, and concentrated on his wife.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The afternoon was beginning to fade, the sky darkening and the lights in the village starting to come to life to replace the waning sun. James pushed open the door to the yard, intending on appreciating the calm of these hours where he best could.

He walked around the house, taking note of which of Lily's flowers needed her attention. With Harry off to school in a few weeks, she had become preoccupied with getting him ready or spending as much time with him as she could before he left for the year and her garden had been somewhat neglected.

He would come home for the holidays, of course, but for the first time since Harry had been born they would be spending weeks apart from him. James could understand why his wife wanted to hold him closely now.

As he neared his usual spot, he saw the Remus had already beaten him to it. He sat up on the lower end of the shed roof. That spot gave a perfect view of the sunset in Godric's Hollow. It was a secret that he went up there sometimes to watch it, at least from Lily. Sirius didn't go up there very often for all his bravado, and he'd caught Remus here every now and then.

If he was honest, he thought that Lily already knew about it and just let him be. It was the shed where she kept her gardening tools and plant cuttings. She came out here almost every day for some reason or another, and James just knew that he'd left a dent in one of the walls when he'd gotten overconfident and almost fallen one time.

It wasn't dangerous, the shed was too small and low for it to be and he was protected by his magic. Then, he and Sirius and Remus had said that about a good many things...

"Hello!" Remus cried out to him.

James waved at his friend. In minutes he'd clambered up to sit beside him. "Looks to be a good night, doesn't it?" he commented. It was getting colder but both men were wearing jackets, so they felt comfortably warm as the slight breeze got brisker. It toyed with Remus' hair, lifting it up before releasing it again tirelessly. He didn't want to think what it was doing to his own. His hair was fairly well-behaved, but once it got mussed it stayed that way until he fixed it.

"Oh, yeah," Remus said, socially. They sat for a time in companionable silence. They had been friends for too many years for it to feel awkward to either of them.

The clouds were starting to colour orange as the sun began to set. It was a lovely colour, and James admired it before closing his eyes and leaning back, his hands behind his head. The breeze brushed over his skin and made him shiver slightly. He felt very calm.

"About today..." his friend began, and James opened one eye to look at him. Remus looked remorseful, and knowing him as well as he did James already knew what he was going to say. "I'm sorry that I let him go. I should have kept a better hold on him."

"One thing you're forgetting, Moony," he said, a little wryly, "Harry is my son, and we've all brought him up together. We should just be thankful he didn't come out earlier, or cast some kind of spell on you in order to do it."

Remus laughed at that. He placed his palms on the roof and leaned back on them. "You would have cast some kind of Shrinking spell on me."

"Sirius would have transformed, and bounded away," James chuckled.

"Lily would have..." Remus looked at him. "Uhh...?"

"No one would try to stop Lily doing something in the first place," he said, grinning. He knew his wife's temper better than anyone. As long as she was allowed to do what she wanted, she was the sweetest woman he had ever known. But if she was forbidden something, she would do everything in her power to do it anyway.

"Poor Harry. I wish we could have explained to him before hiding him like that."

"Harry knows the Malfoys aren't people I trust to be around him. He's heard the stories that Lily and Sirius tell him," James said, closing his eyes again. "Merlin knows they take it a bit too far sometimes, but they really aren't good people for Harry to be close to, and if we have to scare him off than that's what we'll do."

Remus was silent. He didn't approve of some of the things that he and Sirius did, or of small things regarding Harry's upbringing. But James knew he would never say anything unless they asked him directly. He was grateful for that. He appreciated his friend's input but it stood to reason that every now and then they would disagree.

"What did you think of the boy?" Remus asked him softly.

"The Malfoy son?"

Remus nodded and turned serious eyes to him.

He thought for a moment. "I thought he was so much like his parents. The way he looks, yes, but that blank expression that they're always wearing. But he also seemed very...young. He's a Malfoy, but more than that he's a child." The shed roof was starting to feel too hard against his back, so James shifted slightly. "I felt sorry for him," he finished.

"Yeah." More silence. "What was his name, Draco? Or something like that? Who wouldn't feel sorry for a child who ended up with that for the rest of his life," Remus joked.

"They're getting stranger all the time, aren't they," James laughed with him. "I'm half-expecting Harry to come home in a few years with a lovely girl called Mafalda."

Remus fell back as he laughed, so that he was next to James looking up at the sky. "I tell you, if I ever settle down I'm going to need for the girl to have at least a normal-_sounding _name. I think I would just laugh all the time otherwise."

"Lucked out with Lily, didn't I," James said fondly.

"Yeah, you did." Remus became serious again, leaving James to wonder what he had done. "So be careful with Harry, alright. It'll be hard enough on him as it is, with the prophecy and all those journalists chasing him around. He doesn't need to learn how to hate people. He's far too young for it – as young as the Malfoy boy."

His moved his hand to rest on his stomach and cast his eyes briefly across the sky, as if trying to make out the constellations that weren't quite visible yet. "If you make it so that I feel sorry for Harry," Remus took a deep breath. This was as confrontational as he got, and James knew how much it would have cost him. "I won't forgive you."

James stared at him for a long minute. Then he followed his eyes up to that wide expanse of sky stretching over them. He could make out a few stars here and there. In less than an hour the sky would be black and dotted with them.

"Okay," he said simply.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Notes - **Chapter Four, or The Chapter Where Draco Thinks For Two Thousand Words. I got a beta for this story a couple of days ago, but she's still catching up with all my notes and plans and things. I would have liked her to look at this chapter before it went up, but oh well. In the next one the boys head off for Hogwarts! Please leave a review and I'll show them to my beta to make her work faster!


	5. Hogwarts Express

Harry wondered if his mother might possibly be able to let go of his arm so that he actually go to school, rather than just cry about it. He'd been good and let her fuss all morning, not even pointing out when she repeated things and hugged him way too tightly, but now that he was standing on Platform 9 ¾ Harry just wanted to go to Hogwarts.

"Oh, Harry!" she said, wiping her eyes. "You know I'll miss you? We'll all be missing you. And you'll write, won't you? I've put those extra quills in your bag, next to the toffee your father got for you." Her sentences were rushing together, and Harry had given up trying to answer her questions hours ago.

Over her shoulder James gave Harry a sympathetic look. He smiled back, and touched his mother awkwardly on the shoulder when she bent down and hugged him again.

"Lily, I do think he has everything by now," Sirius said, sounding almost bored. He was looking lazily around the platform, as children bustled around excitedly and said goodbye to their parents. But Harry knew he wasn't indifferent about him going away, because his godfather had kept him late every night for the past week to teach him what he called 'useful spells' and said that he wanted letters every week detailing how Harry had used them.

Harry didn't know when Sirius had ever found it useful to dye an unwitting person's hair pink, but he wasn't about to question his wisdom.

"I know he does!" Lily straightened and Harry rubbed his arm gingerly. "But it's important that he doesn't forget where everything is! I don't want to worry about him for weeks only to hear that he couldn't find his parchment!"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "It's a bag, Lily, not a vault at Gringotts."

Granted there were a few charms on Harry's luggage, to make the pockets deeper and it feel lighter as well as a couple of modified Locking spells on it to keep anyone but Harry from opening it. Lily could be over-the-top at times when it came to her only son, but Harry _was_ rather famous and they didn't want people trying to steal any of his personal belongings.

"An entire vault at Gringotts would be worth less to me than my son," she declared.

"That's not quite what I was saying..."

"Can we settle down a little?" James interrupted. "I know we're all sad to see him go, even if we're showing it in...different ways. But Harry _is _going and I know you don't want the last thing he sees of you for weeks to be you bickering with each other." With that he stepped over to his son and hugged him, loosely which Harry was grateful for. "We'll see you for Christmas, champ. And any time before that. Let us know if you have a weekend away, alright?"

"Sure Dad." Harry smiled up at him and James tousled his hair affectionately.

Lily lasted all of two seconds before she was back to her fussing as if her husband hadn't said anything. No one was really surprised and this time they let her be. That went on for several more minutes before Sirius seemed to fix on something and spoke.

"Oh look, it's the Weasleys," Sirius noted drily.

He didn't need to have said anything, for mere moments later one of the twins had run over to Harry and pulled him slightly away from Lily, speaking brightly. "Harry! Where have you been keeping yourself, eh?"

"We haven't seen enough of you," his brother added when he had caught up.

"Although I suppose we'll be seeing too much of you before long. Best keep yourself to yourself in the dorms, alright?" the first said with a wink.

Harry grinned. He'd been friends with Fred and George Weasley for years, after they'd almost bowled him over in Diagon Alley one day while he was there with his parents. They'd stopped, introduced themselves, and then told him to run when their mother had turned a corner, shouting all kinds of things to get her troublesome sons to come back.

It had been some time before he'd realised that he wasn't the one in trouble, but he was having so much fun he kept up with them. Eventually the twins had surrendered to a very red-faced Molly Weasley, telling Harry to owl them as they were dragged away. Harry's own parents hadn't been happy about the stunt but they were glad that he'd been able to make some wizard friends who didn't appear to care that he was famous.

They were odd and constantly getting into trouble, but Harry always enjoyed himself around them. Their pranks were also good fun to watch. It occurred to him that they might like to hear about the spells that Sirius had been teaching him and he smiled a little mischievously. Sirius would no doubt be getting a lot of letters from him this year.

The twins hugged him suddenly, deliberately messing up his hair and making his glasses crooked. "Forgot you were a first year. Looking forward to Hogwarts, then?" the one who was responsible for his hair said.

"It's a good bit of fun, really. You've only got to cast enough spells 'accidentally' and the professors leave you well alone," the other said, trying to undo the button of one of Harry's cuffs and not quite managing.

Harry glanced at his mother to see that she was frowning. His father, on the other hand, just looked nostalgic. "I'll keep it in mind," he said and laughed when the button came open and the twins cheered.

"Muggle clothes," he got in explanation. "Don't wear them often enough to be quite good at them, yet."

Sirius laughed at that and they turned to him, grinning. "Not to worry..." the hair-ruffling boy said.

"...we'll get good with them before we need to be," the button-undoing boy said, his words flowing on from his brother's. He finished with a bold wink at Sirius, who spent a moment trying to suppress another laugh and failed. Lily looked scandalised and Harry just wondered what they meant.

"Oh," the Weasleys said together, turning back to Harry. They stepped forward so they were standing in front of him, side-by-side.

"Come on, then. Which one of us is Fred," the one of the left said.

"And which one of us is George," said the one on the right.

"I bet you won't get it this time."

"I'd put two sickles on it."

This was an old game that they played. Somehow Harry was the only person who could tell the twins apart without thinking about it. Since they'd discovered that fact, which was very early on in their friendship, they had made a habit of asking him who was who. 'To make sure you can still do it' Fred had told him once when he'd asked about it. George had laughed and said something about how they needed to be sure that they were who they thought they were, because after all, there was no one else around to tell them.

They often tried to trick him but so far it had never worked. To Harry the twins weren't a single person; Fred and George had different personalities that showed through their various disguises. They had a shared sense of humour which Harry supposed a lot of people thought was the same as a personality. But it really wasn't, and it saddened Harry sometimes that most people didn't bother to learn that.

Even without them speaking Harry was always able to tell them apart. Part of it was intuitive, he figured. They had all three been friends for so long that they'd come to understand each other.

"You're Fred," he said, pointing to the one on the left. He was the one who had messed up Harry's hair earlier. Fred was more impulsive and a little brasher than his brother. "And you're George," he pointed to the one on the right. George smiled at him. He was more sensible and considerate.

They supported each other that way. Fred came up with utterly wild ideas, and George worked out what they could and couldn't do. He kept them out of serious trouble, but Fred pushed him to do things Harry didn't think he would otherwise. If he hadn't been born a twin or if Fred had turned out differently Harry thought that George might have been a lot like their older, more uptight brother Percy.

It wasn't a scary thought, just an odd one. Harry pushed it aside.

"Amazing," said George.

"I don't know how you do that, when Mum can't even manage it," Fred agreed.

"Yes, well, you don't exactly make it easy on me, do you?" The words were spoken gently, with an edge of tiredness. Molly Weasley smiled at Harry as she approached with the rest of her children.

Ron was pushing a trolley and looking a little red-faced with the strain of it; it appeared that the twins had passed off their bags to him so that they could run over to Harry. Ginny was holding one of her mother's sleeves tightly and stared at Harry in a way that made him feel self-conscious.

Percy looked as though there were places he would rather be than following his family around, but when he saw Sirius he smiled at him. They got along well, though Sirius said sometimes that he reminded him of his brother, Regulus. From what Harry had heard of him he didn't think he meant that as a good thing. Percy moved over to talk with Sirius, largely ignoring the others.

"Hello, Harry," Ron said with a shy smile.

"Hi, Ron." Harry didn't feel as comfortable around Ron as he did with the twins. He and Ginny gave him far too much attention, always watching him reverently and asking about his scar. They were like the people who sent him admiring letters even though they had never met him, but they _had _met him and still didn't act very sensibly.

Harry didn't mind people getting excited about him defeating Voldemort, but he wanted friends, not people who adored him. In his mind they were very different. Fred and George were always ready to tease him or argue with him or prank him, as much as they hugged him and laughed with him and talked to him about things. And they weren't fixated on his scar, which Harry couldn't help having and really didn't think was as interesting as everyone else seemed to.

Molly smiled kindly at Lily. "I remember when my oldest left for Hogwarts. I was so worried he'd need something, I sent him off with five bags nearly bigger than he was and owled him packages every day. Bill sent me a letter after a week saying very politely that he was grateful, but that he really didn't need anything more." Her smile widened at the memory. "I was so proud."

"The point is, dear, it's hard to say goodbye to them but we have to let them go. It's all well and good to coddle them as though they were children forever, but Harry's going off to school now. I'm sure he'll have the time of his life at Hogwarts." Her smile faded a little. "Particularly if Fred and George have anything to do with it. Harry's a good boy. He'll write you and then be back for the holidays before you know it."

Lily smiled at her gratefully and let James take her hand.

"Now, boys! I think it's about time to be finding a place on the train. Come now, get your things," Molly said briskly, gesturing for Percy to finish his conversation. "George, Fred, please help your brother."

"Mum, can't I go..." the youngest Weasley asked and tugged at her sleeve.

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet."

Harry stepped over to his mother and when she reached out her arms he hugged her tightly. "I love you, Mum. I'll have a lot of fun and be good, I promise."

"I know you will, Harry," she whispered into his hair. "I love you too." Lily kissed her son on the top of his head before pulling away.

James hugged Harry fiercely and then straightened, raising a hand to mess up Harry's hair the way he always did. It stopped in mid-air and he lowered it again. He smiled sheepishly. "Have a good time at Hogwarts, Harry. Write home whenever you can."

Harry nodded, suddenly a bit sad. "I will. I love you, Dad."

All Sirius did by way of goodbye was nod at him, a grim expression on his face. Harry nodded back. His godfather had already farewelled him in a way that he felt comfortable doing, spending evenings teaching him things and telling him all that he could about Hogwarts. He knew they would talk in their letters.

Remus would have been there if he could, but it was too close to his transformation. Even if he could pull himself together and venture outside, the number of people and animals on Platform 9 ¾ would have been too much for his overly sensitive werewolf senses. He and Harry didn't need to say goodbye to each other. It wasn't that they weren't close, just that they trusted they would keep in contact and weren't concerned with the formalities of parting.

The Weasleys were walking over to the train now, and Fred grabbed Harry's hand so that he would follow. As he stepped away from his parents, they called out after him.

"Oh, Harry! Don't forget to give that letter to Severus whenever you see him!" Lily reminded him.

"And don't use those spells Sirius taught you unless you're sure you know what you're doing!" James said, grinning when Sirius winced and Lily turned to him with sparks shooting out of her eyes.

The twins helped him lift his bag onto the train and he waved at his family before stepping inside. Harry was glad he wouldn't be around when Sirius caught the brunt of his mother's anger.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

He'd managed to find an empty carriage that the twins said that they would share with him, right before they went off, saying something about a tarantula. They hadn't been gone for five minutes when the door slid open and Ron stuck his head inside.

"Uhh, Harry..." he said, as if he weren't sure what to say. "Can I...is that seat free?"

Harry wasn't sure he wanted to spend the train ride with Ron staring at him the whole time, but the seat _was_ free and he didn't want to say it wasn't just so he could feel more comfortable. Besides, he might as well start getting used to it. "Go ahead," he told him.

Ron smiled in relief. "Thanks. Everywhere else is full." It was probably the most natural he had ever acted in front of Harry, at least until he sat down and looked down at his hands awkwardly.

Harry supposed he could have left it at that and just sat there in silence until they got to Hogwarts, or the twins came back. But he took pity on the boy. It wasn't his fault he felt nervous around someone he probably saw in the papers every day. "Are you looking forward to it?"

"What?" Ron started.

"Hogwarts."

"Oh. Well, I suppose so," he said a little hesitantly. Harry smiled at him and he seemed to gather a bit more courage. "It's a bit hard when you've already got siblings there. I'm the sixth of us to go to Hogwarts, and they've all done awfully well. I don't know if I can manage."

"You're good at Quidditch, aren't you?" Harry said. Fred and George had told him as much; though he suspected they hadn't mentioned it to the brother they loved most to tease.

"Good enough, I guess. Charlie – you've met him a few times, I think – well, he was captain when he went. He played as a Seeker. I think I'd rather be a Chaser, there's less pressure. I couldn't handle having everyone's eyes on me like that – well, l-like you do," Ron stuttered. He looked nervous again, as if he thought he'd insulted Harry.

"Yeah," Harry said and smiled again. "I get what you mean."

Ron brightened at that, and they went on to discuss the finer points of Quidditch, which they happened to share an interest in. Harry found that once he stopped blushing and staring Ron was actually fairly nice to be around. Maybe, he thought, he might have tried talking to him before. It couldn't be helped. At least now they might become friends.

At some point a boy came in asking about a toad, and they told him they hadn't seen it. A few minutes later they were interrupted again by a girl dressed in her school robes. Harry had been about to show Ron one of the spells he'd learned, to mix the sentences up on a piece of parchment so they didn't make any sense. Sirius told him it worked on entire books if you flicked your wand in a different way, and that he'd used it to cause some fun in his Potions classes.

The only parchment he'd had on hand that was already written on was the letter from his mother to Severus Snape. Harry knew neither would be very happy if he messed it up, but he had practiced and was confident he wouldn't get it wrong.

Of course, then the girl came barging in before he'd even started to say the words.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then," she said, after they'd explained again that they hadn't seen the missing toad. Without so much as asking she sat down in the carriage and watched Harry expectantly.

Ron stared at her, probably thinking that she was very rude. Harry shrugged and concentrated on the letter. "_Pateficus_," he cast first. He let go of the envelope and it floated in the air, the letter slipping out of it easily and unfolding until Harry could see his mother's handwriting. There were three pages to it but he only needed one, so he waved the other two down to rest beside him with the envelope. Ron gasped just at that show of magic, and the girl sat forward in her seat, her expression eager.

Even though he knew he shouldn't, Harry felt proud that they were so fascinated with what he was doing. He'd practiced the spells so many times with Sirius that it hadn't felt special to him after the first few goes. Now he remembered that this was magic, and they were all going to Hogwarts to learn it.

All his friends and family already knew spells like this one and didn't think twice about it. Harry realised it would be very nice to be around people his own age.

"_Incogitio_," he said, and flicked his wand the way he'd been taught. All three watched as the words on the parchment moved around and settled, so they became new sentences. He hadn't read the letter before he started, knowing it was private, but he couldn't help but catch a few words before they moved around.

His name appeared a few times, and he saw his father's before it was replaced. He saw '_trust you'_ and _'protect' _mentioned in a few places and wasn't surprised. They were Lily's favourite words when she was talking to other people about him. Harry was, however, a little startled to see the word _'Slytherin'. _

He wouldn't have said it to anyone, but he was worried about where he would be sorted once they got to Hogwarts. Most people he knew – Lily, James, Sirius, Remus, even the Weasleys – were Gryffindors. Harry wouldn't have minded being in any house, but he was scared that his parents would be disappointed if he weren't in theirs.

It occurred to him that Severus was Head of Slytherin this year, so maybe that had been what Lily had written about. Even knowing that, some part of Harry continued to worry. He ignored it.

"Can we touch it now?" the girl said when the words had stopped moving. "By the way, my name's Hermione Granger."

"Sure. I'm Harry Potter," he replied. He waited for her to react, but she just gave him a curious look and picked the letter out of the air.

"Ron Weasley," was all the other boy said, clearly more interested in the revised letter than introductions. He sidled over to Hermione's side so that he could read it. He laughed, and Harry thought that he sounded remarkably like the twins when he did that, and it made him like him just that little bit more. "This is hilarious! You have to teach me that spell, Harry."

Hermione glanced at him with a faintly annoyed expression and began to read. "'Dear Severus' – that bit's the same, it's got to be – 'I would dearly like for you to return my owl. I have told you repeatedly that they are not good to eat and will turn your insides feathery. I should know, a Healer said that James' are tawny-coloured and everything he eats now will tickle.'" She giggled and let Ron take the letter.

"You should read this, mate, it's so funny," Ron told Harry, enjoying himself too much to realise he'd just called the boy he hero-worshipped 'mate'. It made Harry smile as much as the nonsense of the letter did. "Oh, this bit! 'Harry really likes the taste of Cockroach Clusters and must have them with his breakfast every day' – that's awful!" He became serious for a moment and eyed Harry. "You don't really, do you?"

"No!" Harry laughed.

"I think it started running out of words at the end here," Hermione frowned. "'Slytherins can all speak Parseltongue and they use it to scare away a curious Hufflepuff.' What does that mean? What's Parseltongue?"

"It's the language of snakes," Ron explained. "It's really rare, but I don't know if anyone would admit to speaking it anyway because it's considered a Dark gift."

"That's strange. Why would my mother write about that?"

Ron shrugged at him. "Who understands adults. Oh, and listen to this bit, here – 'Albus has a beard that is longer than the Great Hall, and we all try very hard to trim it when he isn't looking.'"

They all laughed at that and a few more that Ron read out. Hermione was the better reader but she kept getting distracted by details, like what the differences were between houses and whether Headmaster Dumbledore was actually any good at Charms, because she'd read somewhere that he wasn't. They were practically in tears, Harry clutching at his side and Ron very nearly crumpling the letter when laughed too hard, when the carriage door slid open.

Three boys entered, Draco Malfoy standing slightly in front. Ron stiffened and tried very hard to fix his hair, pushing it down with his palms over and over. Hermione sat up and put her tie to rights, quickly straightening her robes.

Harry wasn't so unsettled. He looked up at them, expecting them to want to join in with their fun, but Draco scowled and Harry's smile faltered.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Notes - **I made up some spells in this one. The first is _Pateficus _which comes from the Latin 'patefacio' which means 'open'. It was used to open a letter without showing any signs of it being tampered with. The second is _Incogitio _which again comes from the Latin 'incogito' meaning 'arrange'. When used on any form of writing it rearranges the words to make nonsense sentences.

I try to keep close to canon wherever possible. I see it as a tribute, since the Harry Potter books and films were so wonderful. In this chapter I actually used some small pieces of dialogue from the books - props to you if you noticed that! I'd like to put a quick disclaimer here: some of the words do actually belong to J.K. Rowling, I don't make any profit from this work, and I don't intend to infringe on any copyright. If you can't work out where the borrowed dialogue is, leave a review or send me a message and I'll show you. Next chapter is the Sorting!


	6. Rejecting Draco

**Notes - **It was a bit of work to get this chapter out on time - not because it was difficult in itself, but I caught a cold earlier this week and put off writing this until it was actually Saturday. I'm sorry if this has come out a bit later than normal, but it's still Saturday in my timezone! I'm also sorry if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes. If there are, leave a review and point them out to me will you? If there aren't, leave a review anyway. ;)

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

When she had found Neville in tears about his missing toad and decided to help him, Hermione hadn't imagined things would turn out to be quite this interesting.

The spell that Harry had cast was a fairly minor one. She had already read all of the books they would be studying that year, as well as a few others her parents had let her get at Diagon Alley, and they mentioned spells that did far more powerful and complicated things than simply moving some words about on a page.

But although she knew that, Hermione found that she couldn't blink as she watched Harry say the words and wave his wand precisely, for fear of missing anything. She leaned forward in her seat and tried to memorise everything that he did. Later on she might want to try it herself, although it wasn't a trick she could have much use for.

Hermione had read all the books that she had gotten, some of them twice, but this was the _real thing._ It was the first time she had seen magic used right in front of her; she hadn't even used it herself, yet. All sorts of things had been happening on Platform 9 ¾ but her eyes hadn't managed to catch it all.

Besides, she'd been more than a little preoccupied with saying goodbye to her parents. They'd done quite well, she thought proudly. They hadn't looked half so confused as they had at Diagon Alley, although there had been a small problem when someone's cat had brushed past her father and set off his allergies.

Truthfully, the spell that this boy was using was one of the first Hermione had ever seen. It sent a thrill through her when she realised that soon enough she'd be able to do this sort of thing herself, with the wand she'd gotten just a few weeks ago and been very tempted to take out and use. She hadn't, just in case it frightened her parents or there was some rule against it that she didn't know because her parents weren't magical like she was.

Hermione was determined to do everything right at Hogwarts. But that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy it, as well.

She knew who Harry Potter was, of course. From what she could gather he was something of a celebrity in the wizarding world, and had been mentioned several times in the books that she had read. He didn't look much like what she would have expected. The scar was there, and his eyes _were_ as green as they'd been described, but really he just looked extraordinarily normal. That other boy, Ron, was far more memorable with that shocking red hair.

And it went without saying that Draco Malfoy, once she finally met him, left a stronger impression than either of them.

He came into their carriage with his jaw clenched tightly shut and his eyes shooting sparks, looking as though he were both capable and very willing to hex each of them. His hair was a colour that Hermione thought for a moment must be dyed, and slicked back like an old man's. Maybe that was a wizarding style that she hadn't seen yet? The boys standing next to him were brutish-looking but didn't radiate the same anger. Neither appeared intelligent enough to be capable of it.

"Harry Potter," the boy spat out, his eyes filled with such hatred that Hermione nearly shivered. "I trust you've been keeping yourself well?"

Poor Harry had been smiling before, but now he looked as though he didn't quite know what to do with himself. "Yes," he said, his eyes considering the other boy. "Of course. How are you, Draco?"

The boy drew back at those words as though Harry had slapped him, flushing a deep red and glaring intensely at him. Hermione didn't know why he reacted that way, and Harry looked just as surprised as she felt. "Perfectly fine," he said, although it appeared to cost him a great deal to do so. He took a deep breath before speaking again. "I've come here to formally offer my friendship."

There were a lot of things Hermione didn't understand about the wizarding world yet, and was resolved to. This was one of them. Draco looked like he'd rather ride on the top of the train than be Harry's friend. His eyes glinted as if he were daring him to accept.

Harry didn't seem intimidated and just shifted in his seat while he looked over the other two boys. "Who are they, then," he asked in an indifferent tone.

"This is Crabbe, this is Goyle," the boy gestured to them but didn't take his eyes from Harry's face. He didn't give any more explanation. Hermione wondered if she was meant to recognise those names, or he just didn't care to introduce them properly.

"Hello," Harry said to them. One jerked his head in a nod and the other didn't acknowledge him at all. She would have felt insulted if someone acted like that towards her, but Harry appeared to find it funny. "What interesting company you keep, Draco."

"Don't call me that," he said sharply. Then he recovered and gave Hermione and Ron disdainful looks. "I could say the same to you, Potter. A Weasley and some girl who can't even wear her robes correctly? You should just be aching to be my friend."

Hermione frowned and glanced down at her robes. She thought she'd put them on the right way. Madam Malkin had said it was perfect when she'd tried it before.

"Oh, you know Ron then?" Harry breezed on while she was preoccupied. "Then you might know that I'm close friends with his twin brothers, and have been for years. They'll be about as happy as I am about you offending their family name."

"Is that a no to my offer, then?" Draco said almost hopefully. Hermione rolled her eyes. Really. If he didn't want to be friends with Harry, why had he come in here and pulled all these theatrics?

"Not yet. I want to know why you made it."

Draco stepped forward and then seemed to catch himself. "I thought you'd be appreciative. The Malfoys and the Potters have been on...difficult terms since we were young children. I thought you'd _want _to try and change all that."

An odd thing to say, when everything about Draco showed clearly how much he wanted to continue whatever feud their families had been having. And how clearly he wanted Harry to turn down his offer, probably so there'd be enough reason for him to continue it into their generation.

Harry didn't say anything for a minute. He just watched Draco and a regretful look came over his face. "I reject your offer of friendship," he said softly, looking down and away from the other boy.

The triumphant expression on Draco's face made Hermione want to punch him. She and Ron hadn't gotten themselves involved so far because this wasn't something she thought either of them understood. It was an exchange between two people from two disagreeing families.

"On what grounds, Potter?" he said in a mocking tone.

Harry's eyes flicked back to Draco, and now they were hard and angry. "You insulted my friends-" Hermione felt briefly happy at being called that by him, "-and expressed disdain of the Weasleys, a family I am already attached to. You made the offer so that our families' rivalry could be left in the past, but it's already...it's already too strong and old to just be forgotten like that."

At some point Harry had closed his eyes, and he spoke as if he'd memorised the words that he was saying, without any real emotion behind them. When he opened them they were as sad as Draco's were happy.

"I understand," Draco said with an odd little bow. "Come on, Crabbe, Goyle. We're leaving." And he swept his robes around like he were ten years older and walked over to the carriage door, his friends falling obediently behind him.

"I'll see you at Hogwarts, Malfoy," Harry called out to him and he paused at the door. His expression changed so suddenly that Hermione doubted if she had seen it – a few short moments where Draco didn't look angry and hating, instead he looked as though he'd lost something very important and he knew he couldn't get it back.

But the anger and hatred came back and he smirked at Harry. "Potter."

The door closed and Hermione blinked. What did that mean? Why... She shook her head. It wouldn't do her any good wondering about it now. She'd just have to keep a close eye on those two when they got to school, if only to stop them from attacking each other...

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"You've met Malfoy before?"

Harry just nodded in response to Ron's question. Hermione had suddenly paled and rushed out of the carriage, saying something about Neville. Now it was back to the two of them, but Ron was looking at him with a different kind of awe and he was again feeling uncomfortable.

"He was a right git, wasn't he? Coming in here and acting like that, when you can't have done anything to him. I'm glad you didn't become friends – and I'm glad you said I was yours, too – although it seems weird to me that you just decide to become friends like that. Hey, I've heard of the Malfoys. They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. My dad doesn't like them much. I don't think I do either, if they're all like him. I didn't know they had a thing going with your family?"

"Not many people do," Harry said quickly, so that Ron would stop talking. "It's between us and them. Do you think we should be changing into our robes about now?"

"What?" Ron blinked. "Oh, right. Yeah."

Harry got up and took out his robes, all the while nodding and making sounds of agreement as Ron prattled on about how he was on Harry's side and Malfoy would regret it if he tried anything and that if Harry wanted him around he'd be happy to be friends with him and wouldn't make it into the big thing that Malfoy had.

It had surprised him, if he was honest. He couldn't remember doing anything that might make Draco dislike him so much. Harry understood why he'd made the offer even if he did hate him. His parents had probably seen the chance to end the rivalry with Harry's family and tie themselves to the Boy-Who-Lived.

So Draco had come to him and made his offer in a way that he thought Harry wouldn't accept. Better yet, he'd made Harry state his reasons why he rejected it, so that Draco could take them back to his parents and Harry would have no way of protesting. If he wanted Draco could even paint himself the victim and make their families' relationship even worse.

He hadn't wanted to turn him down. Harry had hoped that they would become friends at Hogwarts, for no other reason than that he liked what he had seen of Draco. But the truth had struck him in their confrontation – the Potters and the Malfoys hated each other. Draco insisted on hating Harry, and he was meant to hate him back. They couldn't become friends while that hatred was there and Harry didn't know if he could change something that had existed for nearly as many years as he had been alive.

There had to be more to this than Lucius siding with Voldemort. As soon as he could, Harry planned on sending a letter to Remus asking him about it. Remus had never agreed with his mother and Sirius when they told him about the Malfoys. It was him who had taken Harry aside and told him that no one deserved hatred because of who they were or how people saw them. There was always more to a person than just good or bad.

Harry picked up the letter Ron had left on the chair and cast the counter-spell to make the words return to their original places. Another counter-spell and the letter was straightening its creases and slipping itself into the envelope, which closed itself and landed gently in Harry's hand. This situation with Draco wasn't going to be a pleasant one, he just knew it.

For now he just had to remember to call him 'Malfoy' and try to keep out of his way.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"SLYTHERIN!"

Draco lifted the Sorting Hat from his head, happy that the thing had done what it was supposed to and put him in the right house. It was so old and dirty-looking that Draco had been momentarily worried that it might not be able to do its job properly and put him somewhere else, when he was a Malfoy and already had the Slytherin crest stitched on to his robes.

He walked proudly over to the Slytherin table and sat with his friends. Vince clapped him on the back but Greg made his approval clear with a look before he went back to watching the others get sorted. Draco gave him a small smile and brushed down his robes, in case Vince had managed to unsettle them somehow.

A number of other children sat under the Hat and went to join their housemates at their tables. Draco didn't pay them much attention, noting whenever one was sorted into Slytherin and sneering whenever someone went into Hufflepuff but not really interested aside.

That is, until Potter stepped up and put the Sorting Hat on.

Draco leaned forward, not realising he'd done it until Vince gave him an odd look. The Hat seemed to take its time with Potter. That was surprising. Both of his parents had been in Gryffindor, along with their werewolf. Just as the Malfoys had always been in Slytherin, the Potters had always been in Gryffindor. Why was the Hat hesitating?

Maybe Potter would shock them all and go into Ravenclaw, studying until the Dark Lord faced him and he threw a particularly heavy book at him to get him to go away. Maybe he'd go into Hufflepuff, and the Dark Lord would kill himself just to get away from his smiles and flowers and baby Kneazles that he saved from whatever terrible fate.

Or maybe he'd join Draco in Slytherin and defeat the Dark Lord with deception and manipulation unworthy of the Potter family.

Draco really didn't know how he'd feel if he did. Fortunately he didn't have to find out, as the Sorting Hat called out 'GRYFFINDOR!' and Potter went over to his new table to be hugged and cheered at by his beloved Weasleys and that girl he'd found him laughing with on the train.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Welcome to Gryffindor," Fred leaned over and said to Harry.

"Didn't expect you to be anywhere else, really, but we're glad you're here all the same," George said.

"Thanks," Harry smiled at them. Several people at the table were staring at him, but most had gone back to paying attention to the Sorting or were chatting amongst themselves. It didn't really bother him. He was used to it.

"We'll be able to hang out a lot more now!"

"Of course, we'll be in different classes and different rooms and everything, but the Gryffindor common room is-" he stopped talking when his brother hit him over the back of his head.

"Quiet, George! You're going to overwhelm him with all that!" Fred scolded him. George rubbed his head and gave Harry an apologetic look. "Really, you'll see us all the time. You'll be sick of us before long."

"I don't think that will be possible, with all the mischief we'll be up to," Harry said, his voice deliberately quieter.

The twins sat up straighter and George stopped rubbing his head. "Really?" they said together.

"We thought you might want to keep yourself out of trouble. At least during first year, until everyone gets used to you being around..."

"But you're a lot of fun, Harry, and if you want to then we'd be happy to-" George broke off when Percy frowned at him, and spoke more quietly when he looked away. "Happy to have you."

They smiled at him, their eyes twinkling. Harry had no doubt they were coming up with all kinds of plans already. Glancing at Percy, he leaned closer to them. "I've learned some spells from Sirius..."

"Can you be quiet for a moment and pay some attention while your little brother gets sorted?" Percy said loudly. "He's going up now."

Harry turned and saw Ron walk up to the Sorting Hat. He looked nervous, and his face had gone very pale. He sat down and closed his eyes tightly when he put the Hat on. They sprang open when a second later the Hat shouted 'GRYFFINDOR!'.

Harry clapped along with the other Gryffindors as Ron walked over and sat beside him. He breathed out thickly and smiled gratefully at Percy when he congratulated him. "That was terrifying," he whispered to Harry. "I thought it might put me somewhere else, and I'd have to try and keep up with the Ravenclaws or share a room with Malfoy in Slytherin." He shuddered at the thought, and then a considering look came over his face. "Hufflepuff wouldn't have been too bad."

"Well, I'm glad you're in Gryffindor. It's nice to be with people I know." _And trust_ Harry almost added, but that wasn't fair to the housemates that he hadn't met yet.

Ron smiled at him, his cheeks slightly coloured but not the deep red they would have been before the train ride. He was becoming a friend, which he only could have done if he got past being star struck over Harry. "Thanks, mate. Good to be here."

Hermione was sitting on his other side, and he turned to speak with her. From what he could hear of what they were saying, they didn't quite get along. That was alright. Hermione had a strong personality, and it would do Ron good to try and match it.

"What happened to Ron?" George asked him.

"Yeah. He's not blushing like an idiot and offering to polish your shoes," Fred said.

"We shared a carriage on the way over," Harry explained. "He was quite easy to talk to, after a bit."

"That's good," Fred murmured.

"Yeah, it is. We were a bit worried he wouldn't come into his own. You know, make his own friends, be his own person. He's not so bad, really," George said.

"When you ignore his taste in clothes and inability to tell a cup that will turn his skin blue from one that won't," Fred said, shaking his head in mock despair.

George grinned at him. "Of course, when you ignore those."

Harry decided it wasn't his place to tell them about what Ron had said on the train, about how he was scared he couldn't measure up to his older siblings. Instead he just smiled at them, appreciating that they were fonder of Ron than they appeared to let on.

He looked over to the boy in question, who was arguing with Hermione about who had made the Sorting Hat. Some older students were trying to quiet them, since the Sorting was still going on and they might offend the Hat, and no one knew what it would do if that happened.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Fortunately, it didn't seem to hear what was going on at the Gryffindor table and the last person was sorted. Harry watched a tall, dark-skinned boy walk over to the Slytherins and sit down. He happened to catch sight of Draco, who gave the newest member of his house an appraising look before going back to talking with either Crabbe or Goyle – Harry couldn't tell them apart.

Regret knifed through him as he watched Draco smile at his friend. It was far kinder than anything he'd shown Harry, and probably ever would. It was a painful thing to let go of something before you even had it.

Suddenly Draco met Harry's eyes and he feared for what he saw there. If they were to be rivals then Harry couldn't show any kind of weakness. Draco had every right to take advantage of them.

But something passed over Draco's face, and he looked away. Harry forced his head to turn back to his friends, knowing he couldn't stare pathetically at Draco, however much he wanted to. He'd overlooked it once but he might not do it again.

Fred and George were teasing an oblivious Percy, Ron and Hermione were now making a point of ignoring each other, and all the people who had been staring at him before had stopped, talking to their own friends or toying with the plates that sat before them. The boy who'd been asking about his toad earlier seemed to have found it, and he was playing with it on the table while the people sitting closest to him made sounds of protest.

He was a Gryffindor. He could write home and tell his parents proudly where he'd been sorted, without having to worry about them being unhappy about it. He could play pranks with the twins and befriend Ron and laugh at Percy when he wasn't around and silently respect him when he was.

Although he was still sad about what had happened earlier on the train, Harry was also immensely relieved. He was a Gryffindor. He was a Potter.

Even in the most unfortunate of ways.


	7. Lily's Letter

Severus flung down the book he'd been carrying, not caring overly much where it landed. As it was it fell neatly onto his bed, bouncing slightly before stilling. He noted that with faint satisfaction and began to tear at the buttons securing his collar.

The Sorting had been as depressing as he'd anticipated. No new Slytherins that appeared to be worth much, if their self-conscious smiles and shaking hands had been any indication. One girl, 'Davis, Tracey', had even begun to cry! It meant little that she'd waited until she was sitting at the table, mostly out of view. There was as much to be lost showing weakness to a housemate as a member of another house.

He grimaced and pulled jaggedly at the stiff material of the collar, sending that to join the book. His godson seemed the only promising student of the year. Draco had held himself well, smiling and frowning at the appropriate times. He'd shown just a touch too much interest in Potter's sorting, but that was excusable. They were to be rivals, of course. He did well to try and comprehend the boy before going against him.

Severus sat down, exhaling in a way that never did him any good. There was too much around him to be dissatisfied with for him to ever really relax. It was not for lack of trying – at the end of every torturously long day he would sit in this chair and take in the undisturbed silence of his chambers and just try to calm himself. Some days it came closer to working than others, but it never actually did.

He stood again, walking briskly over to his bookshelves. Madam Pince had finally surrendered a copy of one of the library's rarer books, and he only had a couple of days with it before she'd come and raid his chambers to get it back. Honestly, if the staff weren't even trusted with these books, what were they doing in a school library? Severus shook his head. Hogwarts had long ago ceased making sense to him.

For now he would do better to try and get knowledge that was within his reach, rather than indulge his curiosity when all it would be was useless. Severus had put together some notes on the potion he'd been researching for weeks now. It would be enlightening to see how they matched up with what he found in the library book. If he remembered rightly, he'd left them in _Élixirs par __Cade de D'Ambly_...

Someone knocked on Severus' door, and he felt both frustration and dread at the sound. In his experience very little good ever happened at this hour.

But when he put on his best scowl, fixed his collar and opened the door, it was just a student.

"Hello Severus," Potter said, looking up at him with those infuriatingly green eyes. They were Lily's. At least if Potter had taken after his father in almost every other way, he had had the sense to inherit his mother's most striking feature.

"Potter. You've barely been here a day and you're already violating your curfew?"

The boy had the nerve to give a small smile at that. "I wouldn't want to fall short of your expectations," he said and shifted until his right arm abruptly disappeared from the elbow down.

That had stopped surprising Severus months ago. Potter had never kept his possession of the Invisibility Cloak secret, at least not from people that he trusted not to take advantage of it. He'd probably thought that Severus was close enough to Lily that he wouldn't be willing to betray her confidence over something so small. It bothered him that the boy was right.

"I've brought you a letter." Potter held out a crisp white envelope. He didn't say who it was from, but he didn't have to. The day James or anyone else connected to the Potter family sent him a letter was the day he incorrectly brewed a potion.

Severus took the envelope without much more suspicion than he was expected to show. He honestly didn't think this boy capable of harming someone else. At least, not without proper warning. He might not like him, but he knew better than to underestimate Harry Potter. "If there's anything else, Potter..."

"Yes, actually." Heavens, the boy looked more innocent than was believable. A Gryffindor shouldn't try a Slytherin's tricks, any more than a lion could pretend to be a snake. It was ineffectual to the point of being ridiculous. "I was rather wondering what to call you."

He blinked. "My name would be a good start, Potter. If this is an attempt to avoid your curfew-"

"It isn't, really. I just..." Those too-familiar green eyes were uncertain, and went to the floor for a moment before returning to Severus' face. "You've always been Severus to me. It was what Mum always called you, and I don't think either of us really thought about it. But you're my professor now. I don't know what that makes us."

"That makes us," Severus said sharply. "Exactly what you have said. Professor and student. You will call me Professor Snape, and I will call you whatever I wish to."

"Potter's fine," the boy offered, a twinkle in his eyes that Severus would have dismissed as a trick of the light if he hadn't seen it many times before. "I like it. Efficient. Makes me feel like my father's around, particularly when you spit it out the way you do."

Severus resisted the urge to close his eyes and sigh. Every time they spoke, he seemed more and more like his parents. Not even especially James; he had Lily's cool wit down to a veritable art form. "Yes, well. I'm sure you'll benefit from being out of his company. Was there anything else, or should you be scrambling back to your tower now?"

Potter watched him as if his face were a painting that he rather liked the look of but couldn't quite understand. "Mum may use me as a messenger again," he said lightly.

_Oh, goody. More encouragement for her son to break school rules. As if he's not already going to get enough of that from his father. _"I'll be looking forward to it." His tone said just how much. "Now would you kindly recognise that I am a professor and you are quite blatantly not in your room when you are required to be? I ought to give you detention."

"But you won't," Potter smiled.

"Not today," Snape replied. "But don't expect my relationship with you to affect how I treat you now that you're a student at Hogwarts. And don't think that your mother and father can rescue you if you manage to fall into trouble here, either."

"Yes, Professor Snape," Potter said, so convincingly that he sounded like one of Severus' third year Ravenclaws. And then he turned and walked away, slipping under his Invisibility Cloak as he did. Severus was dismayed to realise that he couldn't even hear him heading down the corridor. It would be unnerving if Potter had both James' talent for pranks and Lily's sense. The school would be in pandemonium before the year was out.

He shook his head and closed the door. It would be wise not to underestimate Potter's ability, but it was quite another thing to overestimate it. Even if he was the Boy-Who-Lived, he was still a boy. A boy and a student, who would realise before long that fame wouldn't earn him his O.W.L.s. Presuming he even made it that far.

Placing the envelope on his desk, Severus stood slightly away from it and cast spell after spell at the unassuming piece of parchment. They revealed nothing. Lily hadn't tampered it with it, at least not in a way that he could detect magically.

He picked up the envelope and examined it for a moment. Not so much as a crease. It said a good deal about Potter, that he hadn't even been curious enough to read the letter he'd been trusted to deliver. A Gryffindor then, well and truly.

Severus smirked and opened the envelope. Inside were three pieces of parchment, all covered neatly in Lily's handwriting and looking as untouched as the envelope had. The boy must be completely unimaginative. He wouldn't do well in Potions without a suitably curious mind. At the thought of a Potter performing poorly in his classes, Severus found himself almost – almost! – looking forward to them.

He coughed to stop himself from smiling and began to read the letter.

_Dear Severus,_

_ I hope this letter reaches you well. I would have sent it by owl but you still haven't released my last one. If you've managed to get it mixed up with the others in that Owlery at Hogwarts, it's the tawny-coloured one that insists on trying to eat its own feathers. I sent it to you a fortnight ago, asking you to treat it, but I know you and I know you must have taken care of it for me and then forgotten to return it. _

_There are some things I must tell you. As you know, my son Harry is attending Hogwarts this year. I would ask you to take care of him, but I trust you to do that regardless – for my sake, if not his. Albus does not even know what I am about to tell you. He will find out eventually, but I would like you to please hold that off for as long as possible._

_We had not seriously entertained the idea that Harry would be sorted into Slytherin, even before he received his scar. James and I expected that he would become a Gryffindor like we were, or even a Hufflepuff. Several months ago, however, we were forced to reconsider our prejudices. And yes, they were prejudices; don't think that I don't understand that I'm insulting that darling house of yours._

_Harry was playing in the garden, and when I went out to bring him inside I found him talking to a snake. He's a Parseltongue, Severus. Surely you must understand how serious that is. It has its origins in Slytherin, and when we thought on it there were other signs, signs that said that the idea of Harry going there isn't as bizarre as we always thought. _

_He is intelligent, far better at reading people than he should be at his age. We taught him how to do so, yes, but he _adjusts _to people. He smiles when he knows they would want him to, he talks the way they would most like. Merlin, Severus, he met the Malfoys weeks ago and he just _watched _them and they _liked _it and I can't...I just can't have him jeopardised like that. If he were in Slytherin he would be in constant contact with people who would want to do him harm. Even you must admit that._

_Protect him, please. Slytherin or not, Gryffindor or not, he is my son and I need to know that he will be safe there. I understand that you would not want to show him favouritism and I'm not asking you to. I'm asking that you look out for him, help him when he is in trouble – like I should hope you would do with any one of your students._

The letter went on for two more pages as Lily prattled on about things that she knew full well Severus would have no interest in whatsoever. It was signed simply with her name: _Lily._

Theirs was a strange relationship, not quite friends but not enemies either. They had kept in contact after leaving school, sending each other letters infrequently and Severus making visits to Godric's Hollow three or four times a year. They disliked each other, constantly baiting each other with words and often insulting each other outright. He'd gotten mostly over the crush he'd had on her years ago, and it had made way for whatever it was that they now shared.

They trusted and respected each other selectively. Severus would always test the letters that she sent him before opening them, and he had no doubt that Lily did the same. But she would ask him to care for an owl even as she implied he had no human feeling, and in return he would confide in her how dissatisfied he was with his job before pointing out everything that was wrong with her choice of husband.

This letter left him angry, just as all the others did, as well as faintly in awe. Potter was a Parseltongue. It wasn't a gift deserving of fear as Lily seemed to think, but something to respect and even envy. Even a woman as intelligent as she was showed herself capable of ignorance.

He crumpled the parchment in his fist and then smoothed it out again. Pressing it with a hint of force against the surface of his desk, Severus pulled out parchment and ink to write out his response.

_Lily,_

_You seem to be overlooking the fact that Parseltongue is not but its own nature 'evil' or 'Slytherin', and certainly the two are not synonymous. As it happens the boy was sorted into Gryffindor._

_I've sent this with your animal. I'd suggest keeping Black away from your owls in future, unless you want their feathers bespelled to taste like walnuts._

_Severus_

He barely glanced at it before folding it up and sweeping out of his chambers. The bird should be where he had left it, in the school Owlery. It had bitten him twice when he'd tried to feed it the potion that it needed, and Severus would be glad to see it gone.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It only took Severus a few minutes to come out of his office, which Harry was very grateful for. The dungeons were colder than he'd expected and he had to work not to shiver, in case his Invisibility Cloak moved and Severus realised he was there.

The man walked quickly, and Harry almost stumbled in an effort to catch up with him. After a while he adjusted to the pace and was able to focus completely on being silent. His footsteps were muffled – another of the tricks he'd learned from Sirius – and it was easy to quiet his breathing. The cloak swished gently, but he didn't think Severus would be able to hear that unless he was standing right next to him, and he had made a point of following several metres behind.

If he was right they were headed to the Owlery. Harry didn't know where that was, since the first years had been sent to their rooms after the Welcoming Feast. He'd wanted to send some letters home, telling his parents that he'd gotten into Gryffindor before they heard it from anyone else.

And he'd had that letter to deliver to Severus anyway, so Harry had figured he could get two things done at once. He was taking the chance that Severus would go straight to the Owlery and not anywhere more ominous. He felt fairly safe under his cloak though, and saw this as something of an adventure.

Severus cast a spell that lit up the end of his wand and Harry made a mental note to ask Sirius about it. It seemed a good deal more useful than some of the others he'd taught him. The walk down to the dungeons had been slow and fumbling, and had taken him more than an hour, even after he had run into a very confused Nearly Headless Nick and gotten directions.

After they'd walked down several corridors that all looked much the same, Harry no longer felt cold and was having far more fun than was sensible. He'd suppressed a grin before he realised that no one could see it. At one point Severus looked back and Harry's heart had stopped. Then the man had nodded to himself and turned away again, and Harry had to stop himself from giggling. This was like the games that he played with his father at home.

When they came out of the dungeons Harry saw that there were dozens of portraits on the walls. Since it was late most of them were asleep, although a few were yawning and entertaining themselves quietly. He passed a little boy with a toy airplane who heard his cloak shifting around and blinked at him. Harry smiled, even though the boy wouldn't see it. Maybe he would come back and say hello, when he wasn't busy stalking one of his professors.

It was odd to think that that was what he was doing. It was odd to think of Severus as a professor at all. He looked the same he always had, with his black robes and stern demeanour. He _always _looked that way, whether he was talking to Lily or James or Remus or Harry himself. Harry wondered if he'd been like that when he was Harry's age. It was hard to imagine.

He jumped when Severus started murmuring to himself. Walking a little closer, Harry could make out some of the words: _'she always does this to me...not as bad as everyone likes to think...Potter's influence..._'

More of the usual, then. Harry relaxed and fell back again. Severus had always said when he had a problem with something, although he liked to think he was subtle about it. There wasn't anything he could say that Harry probably hadn't already heard.

The murmuring stopped abruptly. A few seconds later Harry heard footsteps, and Percy came around a corner. His back was as straight as ever and he twirled his wand absently. When he saw Severus he stopped and ducked his head. "Good evening, Professor Snape."

"Weasley. Is it really necessary for the prefects to be out on patrol this late at night?"

"I would say so, sir. At least the first night of the year. Some of the first years don't know about the curfew, or don't think it will be enforced," Percy said. He took his duties very seriously; the twins had already told Harry as much. "We all planned to go to bed ourselves at ten-thirty. By then we should have caught everyone."

Severus was silent for a few moments and Harry knew he must be thinking about Harry and his Invisibility Cloak. Well, it wasn't their fault that they couldn't see him. They weren't going to go around casting Revealment Charms all over the place, so there really wasn't much they could do.

"Of course. I'll leave you to what you were doing." Severus didn't sound nearly as condescending as he normally did. Maybe he rather liked Percy, or it was treatment he reserved for Harry's family.

"Thank you sir," Percy said and walked by them, twirling his wand like a baton.

Severus watched him go before heading off again. The rest of the walk was rather uneventful, except for once when they were going up some stairs and Harry stepped on his cloak and almost pulled it completely off. Fortunately his first instinct was to freeze, and he was able to reach down and adjust the cloak so that it didn't get in his way. Severus didn't seem to notice and just went on obliviously murmuring to himself.

Finally they came to the Owlery. It was incredible, with hundreds of birds roosting in individual spaces that went all the way up to the ceiling. They twittered to each other and occasionally one would fly across to another, loosing feathers that floated down. Harry was careful to avoid them, since they would rest on top of the cloak and tell Severus that there was something there.

He waited patiently for Severus to fetch an owl. It didn't appear to be very fond of him, and tried to bite him more than once. Severus just muttered darkly at it, attached his letter to its leg and sent it off with instructions on where to go and who to give the letter. He saw it off and then made to leave the Owlery. "Good riddance," Harry heard him say, and then Severus was walking back the way they'd come, presumably back to his chambers.

Harry slipped off the cloak and saluted him when he was sure he wouldn't see. Then he pulled his letters from his pocket, folding them gently in an effort to get rid of the more obvious creases. He'd pushed them deep into his pocket so that Severus wouldn't see them and get suspicious.

A school owl would do. He beckoned for one and it flew down to him, landing on his arm and looking at him inquisitively. Harry smiled. "You couldn't hop onto my shoulder for a bit, could you? I just need to look over my letters." It trilled and did as he'd asked. He rewarded it with a quick rub underneath its neck.

Taking out his wand, he touched it to the letters and said the words that would allow the owl to pass through the wards on Godric's Hollow. Harry didn't know why Severus hadn't had to do something similar, but whenever Harry used an owl that didn't belong to him or anyone else in his family he had to use this spell.

The letters glowed faintly red for a moment and then returned to normal. Satisfied, he tied them together and then to the owl's leg. "Godric's Hollow. Please give these to Lily or James Potter, or Sirius Black, or Remus Lupin. No one else," he said. "Thank you."

The owl hooted and flew up and out the window. Harry watched it go. They were really very beautiful creatures, and friendlier than others that he'd met. One day he wanted to have his own. It would be brilliantly white, so that he could see it flying on a night like this.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Notes - **This was very much a filler chapter. It's my birthday tomorrow and I'm turning eighteen, which people seem to think is very important. Between my friends and my family I couldn't find the time to do this chapter properly. I also had to overlook a few details that I know I'd gotten wrong - my French, for example, is abysmal! Owls don't eat walnuts, so don't try feeding them some, and Invisibility Cloaks are complicated things that I'm sure I got wrong in some way or another. Just assume that Sirius is brilliant enough at magic that he makes owls like the taste of walnuts and anything else is on me. Despite that I'd love it if you left a review. :)


	8. Matches to Needles

**Notes - **Sorry I was late in updating this chapter. Tomorrow's chapter will be up on time. I just wasn't happy with what I was writing, so I decided to work on it properly and update a day late. It shouldn't happen again, particularly now that I'm on holiday for a few weeks. I'm also working on getting a beta for this story. It's a complicated business but it's coming along. Wish me luck with that!

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"_Compositus Verto!_" Ron chanted and swished his wand the way their professor had showed them. He peered at the match he'd been trying to transfigure into a needle, and groaned. "This is impossible!"

"I hardly think Professor McGonagall would try to teach us something she didn't think we could learn," Hermione said, practicing her wand movements.

"No one asked you, Hermione," Ron scowled at her.

She looked at him pointedly before returning to her self-assigned practice. "You're not moving your wand the right way. It's meant to be a counter-clockwise motion."

"Oh, is that it..." Ron tried casting the spell again, and this time the match jumped slightly on the table. Harry had to stop himself from laughing at his friend's expression. He was clearly caught between being happy that his spell had actually done something, and being annoyed that it hadn't done what he wanted it to.

Transfiguration was an interesting class but so far none of the first years appeared to be any good at it. Harry's own match was sitting on the table in front of him, seeming to him quite happy to stay the way it was. He'd given up trying to change it ages ago. It was far more interesting to watch Ron obsess over his match, clearly wanting to do better than Hermione.

Hermione was standing on Harry's other side. She hadn't even cast the spell yet and just stood there waving her wand in the air, occasionally frowning and trying again with some subtle difference. If she just tried and failed, Ron would probably be satisfied and stop pushing himself. But she didn't, so he fell over himself trying to get it right. It was rather funny to watch.

"It looks a little pointier. It looks a little pointier, doesn't it Harry?" Ron asked him hopefully.

"I suppose..." Harry shook his head and gave him an apologetic smile.

"Right then. _Compositus Verto!"_

"You're meant to be moving it in a circle. If that's what you're doing, it's awfully squashed," Hermione told him. She'd stopped practicing with her wand to give Ron her full attention, one hand on her hip and a faint frown on her face. Harry thought she looked just like McGonagall and had to hide his smile.

Ron lowered his wand so fast the wood clacked against the edge of the table. His eyes widened and he raised it again, cradling it in his hands and looking over it to make sure it wasn't damaged. It was a hand-me-down from his brother Charlie and unicorn hair stuck out one end. Harry could understand him wanting to be careful that it didn't break, when he wasn't sure if his family could afford to get him another one.

Looking relieved, Ron lowered his wand again – carefully this time – and glared at Hermione. "If you're so good at it, let's see how you do it then."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I didn't say I was _good _at it, I just said that you weren't doing it right. It's not the same thing, Ronald."

She was the only person Harry knew that called Ron by his full name, although the twins used it sometimes when they were teasing him and he'd heard Molly use it once when Ron had taken a broom out of the shed without permission and then fallen off it and broken his arm. He'd been really embarrassed once he realised Harry was there, especially when Arthur had gotten the mending spell wrong and his arm went the wrong way.

Harry didn't know how Hermione had even found out what it was, but he did know that Ron really hated her using it.

"So how exactly _are _you meant to do it," Ron said, sounding annoyed. "Show me."

"A 'please' at the end of that wouldn't have hurt you," Hermione muttered. "But fine. Here, lift your wand up this way, with the end pointing north-east...honestly, you should really know at least _that _much. Point it at...that statue over there. See, the one with the rather large nose? Yes. Good. Now move it," she began to move her own wand in demonstration, "...like this. A larger circle and then a smaller one."

It was about then that Harry realised he should probably be taking advantage of Hermione's lesson. He hurriedly copied what she was doing with her wand, checking to make sure the statue wasn't offended that they were all pointing their wands at it before drawing slow, careful circles in the air.

Hermione smiled at him. Ron didn't notice; he was concentrating too hard on his moving his wand the right way. She nodded in approval of what they were doing and continued: "Then you move the end of your wand through the middle of the circles...no, not like that Ronald, it looks like you're stabbing it...that's more like it Harry. Just very gently. Then kick it up, like this." She showed them. "Like you're ticking something off on a piece of paper."

Ron gave her an odd look and Hermione sighed. "Parchment, then. Can you please just try it? That's good, Harry, I think you're rather good at this...Ronald! If you tick things off that way, I'd hate to see what your parchment would look like! It'd be all lines going absolutely everywhere-"

"Okay, okay, I get it now," Ron said grumpily. "You can stop talking."

Hermione harrumphed and turned away so fast her hair spun. She kept shooting dirty looks at Ron until he sighed in much the same way she had a minute before. "Thanks. Really," he told her. "I'm not any good with this stuff."

She watched him for a few moments and Ron began to fidget awkwardly. Finally, she smiled and went back to practicing her wand movements. "None of us are, Ron. But we can learn to be."

Harry saw Ron's cheeks begin to redden and decided to speak before he could get angry at Hermione again. "So it's like this?" he asked her and then swished his wand.

"Exactly!" Hermione beamed at him. "At least, that's what Professor McGonagall said. And when she changed her desk into a pig earlier, she was using similar sort of movements. It might be the same for all transfiguration spells, with slight differences. So if you get it right everything else should be a lot easier. I think. I'd have to check, though."

"_Compositus Verto_," Harry tried. His match jumped up and began to dance around furiously, before falling back onto the table. He picked it up and brought it close to his eyes. There wasn't any difference. He smiled at Hermione and shook his head, putting it back down.

She frowned. "Maybe incantation is more important than I'd thought. You're meant to say the words in a certain way, with emphasis on certain sounds. I don't know much more than that."

"That's alright. I might get it next time," Harry said.

Ron startled him by sticking his match in front of Harry's face. "Does this look silvery to you? I thought I saw it shine a minute ago..."

It really did not look any different. "Sure, Ron. You might be getting it," Harry said cheerfully.

Ron looked at Hermione for a second, as if he were going to say something to her. Then he shook his head, thanked Harry and went back to casting the spell. It was probably hard for him to thank her, Harry reasoned, since he was trying so hard to beat her.

Hermione on his other side had closed her eyes, and when they flew open and she pointed her wand at the statue Harry knew somehow that she was going to try the spell. He nudged Ron, who asked him what he was about but fell silent when he noticed Hermione. There was determination clear in her eyes. If she didn't get the incantation right, it said, she was going to _will _her match into a needle and that would be that.

"_Compositus," _she drew her circles in the air, so quickly that Harry didn't have time to make out the shapes, "_Verto!" _she punctuated the word with a movement forward, her whole body moving with her wand.

Behind him Ron whispered something but Harry didn't hear it, too focused on Hermione's match.

The little stick of wood and red jumped off the table, high enough that it spent full seconds in the air before falling back down again. It made a plinking sound when it returned to the surface, sounding more like metal than wood...

"Bother," Hermione said.

Harry stepped forward and leaned in to look at the match – or was it a needle? – to see if it had changed at all. Hermione didn't seem as interested, although Ron more than made up for her. He moved around behind Harry, trying to see over his shoulder or under his arm.

It was thinner than it had been, and almost completely silver. There were tiny patches where the wood hadn't changed. One end was slightly pointed, but not enough to be any use as a needle. There wasn't any way to put thread through it because it didn't have an eye. Hermione had turned it into some strange match-needle hybrid, without it really being one or the other.

She'd gone back to practicing her wand movements, this time muttering the spell under her breath, trying different emphases.

"That's really impressive, Hermione," Harry told her. She just nodded at him absently, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Blimey," Ron said, poking the match-needle as if he thought it might come to life at any second. "Mine doesn't look anything like that."

"Just as well," Hermione muttered, so quietly that Harry barely heard her and Ron didn't at all.

The class went on a while longer. Hermione didn't try to cast the spell again, and Ron had predictably given up once she'd done it. He spent the rest of the lesson talking with Harry and admiring Hermione's transfigured match.

When it was over, Professor McGonagall walked around the room and inspected everyone's matches. When she came to Hermione she surprised everyone by breaking out into a smile and holding hers up. "See how it's turned silver, and the end is pointed? Well done, Miss Granger. Very well done."

Harry thought Hermione looked rather different when she smiled the way she did then at Professor McGonagall. She looked younger, like she was the same age as everyone else in the class and not just a very short upper year. Draco was like that. He slicked his hair back and walked and talked like his father until you almost forgot he was a child. But every day Harry had watched him in the Great Hall, and seen him laughing with his friends like the eleven-year-old he was.

Granted, an eleven-year-old Slytherin. They seemed to have a limit on how much they could smile and laugh in one day, and were only able to scowl at everything once they reached it. Harry was glad he hadn't gone into that house. As it was he'd had to plead with the Sorting Hat to get it to change its mind. Harry hadn't told anyone about that, and he didn't plan to.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Harry thought it was rather odd that whenever a class or meal ended, all of the Gryffindors would just follow each other back to the tower. They didn't _have _to go back to the common room. For some reason people decided that was what they were going to do and everyone went along with it.

Hogwarts was an interesting place. His father had told him about secret passages and hidden rooms and all kinds of things that you had to look for to find. James thought there were parts of the castle that people hadn't been into for decades or more. He and Sirius and Remus had spent all of their school years looking, and said there was still more that they hadn't found.

The twins were doing it too, although they weren't as organised as the Marauders had been and frequently lost a room or passageway because they couldn't remember where it was. James had given them the Marauder's Map last year for their birthday and that had helped. It had taken them months to get it to work, since James had refused to tell them, saying they had to prove that they deserved it. He still got specially adjusted Howlers from them from time to time, but appeared to find it funny.

Harry wanted to go off and explore, and were it not for Ron and Hermione he would have already done it. They seemed to follow him everywhere. They were in a lot of the same classes and Ron would ask him all sorts of questions if he tried to go somewhere afterwards. Hermione wasn't much better. She didn't ask questions but she stared at him critically, as if trying to work out exactly where he would go and what he would do and if she needed to tell someone about it.

So he was stuck walking with a group of first years back to the common room, just like they did every day. If he wanted to explore he had to do it at night under his Invisibility Cloak, but that didn't seem like a good idea. The morning after Harry had followed Severus, he'd fallen asleep with his face mashed into his toast. No one had bothered to wake him up for a good ten minutes. Draco had found that hilarious.

It wasn't pleasant to be laughed at by anyone, but at least he knew the Gryffindors weren't doing it maliciously. That was why it hurt more to look over to the Slytherin table and see Draco pointing and laughing like he hadn't seen anything funnier than butter and crumbs sticking to Harry's cheek. Harry wondered if Draco realised how much it bothered him. Probably not. Not that he could say anything. They were rivals now and it wouldn't do to have a civil conversation.

"Caput Draconis," said someone at the front of the group. The Fat Lady greeted them and let them through.

"-thought she'd go easy on us, since it was the first lesson. I can't believe how much homework she gave us!" Ron was complaining to an unsympathetic Hermione.

"It wasn't _that _much Ronald, don't exaggerate. And it's just one essay for the entire weekend. Although you should really get it done tonight, that way you won't be overwhelmed if we get anything for Potions tomorrow-"

"Urgh, Potions. I had a look at the book for that-"

"That'd be the first time," Hermione said and he glared at her.

"-and it's awful. Really awful. I couldn't understand any of it, something about wolf's bean-"

"I think you mean wolfsbane."

"-and I was lost. It was like it was in another language-"

"Probably Latin."

"Can you stop interrupting me like that? I know you're wonderful at all these classes, but some of us are having a bit of difficulty and I'd say that's pretty normal," Ron said, annoyed. "What did you think of it, Harry?"

"Hmm? Oh. It was fine." He stopped when he saw Hermione's triumphant look. "But reading about it and doing it are two different things. I think it'll be a lot harder actually brewing anything," Harry said quickly.

Ron gave him a grateful look and changed the subject. "Do you think he'll get us to brew a potion in the first lesson?"

"Professor McGonagall got us started on transfiguration right away. I don't see why Professor Snape wouldn't do the same," Hermione answered. They'd finally passed through the portrait; there were so many people that they'd had to wait for the others to go through before they could. She looked as if she wanted to head up to her room and get started on her work right away.

"I think she's right. Sev-Professor Snape will probably get us working on a potion straight off. Maybe you should study a bit tonight?" He hoped Ron would understand what he was saying: _if you don't study tonight he's going to tear you apart in class tomorrow._

Harry was satisfied to see his friend look a little worried. "I think I'll go grab my books. It couldn't hurt to take a look at them," Ron said, and made for the stairs.

"Thank goodness. He's never going to get anywhere if he doesn't work," Hermione sighed. "I'll go up and get mine as well. I might be able to help him a bit before I go to the library."

"Can I join you two?"

She gave him an odd look. "Of course. Just keep in mind that I wanted to borrow some books later, so I'll be leaving you alone with Ronald for a little while. You can't let him get distracted."

Harry already knew how much work that would be, and just what Hermione was asking from him. He was about to reply when someone called out his name. Sitting near the fireplace were the twins, gesturing for him to come over and sit with them. Hermione just smiled at him before heading over to the stairs.

"Feels like we haven't seen you in ages," Fred remarked as Harry took an armchair next to him.

"Yeah. We haven't really got to talk to you since the Welcoming Feast," George said.

"Sorry," Harry said, although he knew it wasn't completely his fault. The twins were ridiculously hard to get hold of when you didn't know where they could be. It would have been great of his father to give Harry the Marauder's Map instead...though the Invisibility Cloak was a pretty good consolation prize.

"How have your classes been?" George asked.

"Gotten into any trouble yet? We haven't heard anything, but we're willing to give you the benefit of the doubt."

"Not yet. It's been hard to get away from people." Harry stretched in his seat. "I'd rather be exploring the castle than just coming back here all the time. Not that it's not nice here; it just gets a little boring."

The twins nodded sympathetically. "After the first couple of weeks it gets better," George told him.

"People start to get the hang of things and feel more comfortable just wandering around."

"That's good to hear. Ron and Hermione are great, but..." Harry trailed off. He didn't want to insult his friends while they weren't around. It wasn't as if they were stopping him from doing things on purpose, anyway.

"They'll get used to it," George assured him.

"Although I had a chat with Hermione the other day. She's a lot like Percy, that one, if he were a girl and studied even more than he already does. It was a bit frightening," Fred mused.

"'Ronald'," George said in a falsetto voice and sent all three of them laughing.

"I never realised how much that bothered him!"

"You're right; we should have come up with it first," George agreed.

"I don't think she does it on purpose," Harry said. He didn't know why she did it, but it didn't seem like Hermione called him that to annoy Ron.

"They seem to get on rather well, actually. How's our little brother been doing?"

"Exploded anything yet? Mistaken Mars for an exceptionally bright star?"

Harry laughed at that. "He's okay. Useless at transfiguration, but only Hermione was any good."

The twins shared a look and nodded. "Glad to hear it," said Fred.

"Wouldn't want him to have any trouble. If he keeps hanging around Hermione it can only mean good things," George said, giving no hint as to what those 'good things' could be.

"Now, on to business..." Fred rested his elbows on his knees and leaned in.

"What kind of spells did Sirius teach you?"

Harry expected the twins to know half of them already, but it was still a lot of fun to speak like he had some kind of secret knowledge. It had always been the twins who had taught him new things, like Quidditch moves and how to tell the flavour of a jelly bean before you ate it. They were two years older than Harry so it was understandable that they were better at things than he was. It made him feel oddly proud that he could know something they didn't.

He was so caught up in whispering to Fred and George that he didn't notice when Ron came down the stairs with his books. They didn't either, until Fred finally looked up and elbowed Harry.

Ron looked angry, although Harry couldn't work out why. Maybe one of the boys they shared a room with had said something to him. "I should go and talk to him," he said to the twins, and they nodded.

"This Saturday, then. Don't forget!" Fred called after him. He made a sound of protest when George hit him on the shoulder. "Hey, what was that for..."

"Did you get everything you need?" Harry asked Ron with false cheerfulness. The other boy didn't reply, his eyes going from Harry to his brothers and back again, and his grip on his books turning his fingers white. "Sorry. I just haven't seen them for a few days, and I wanted to see how they were going."

Harry didn't know why he was apologising for talking to his friends, but the look on Ron's face made him feel as though he had to. After a minute Ron smiled, but it was clearly forced. "Right. Yeah. Do you want to sit over here? I don't know what Hermione wants to do."

"Are you alright?" Harry asked him.

Ron looked troubled for a moment. Then he smiled again, and it was genuine enough to make Harry relax. "Yeah. Should we sit here, then?"

"Sure," Harry said. They sat down together and Ron opened up his books, asking Harry what he thought they would be expected to know for Potions. Harry had a better idea than Ron did, since he knew Severus reasonably well and had also asked a few of the upper years what they'd done for their first class. He knew Severus would write to his mother if he did badly and Harry didn't want to disappoint her.

When Hermione came down a couple of minutes later she was able to help them work out what difference it made to the qualities of nettle when it was dried, and whether you could carry a flabbergasted leech in your hand or not, and how on earth you'd manage to harvest a porcupine's quills anyway.

And Harry tried to ignore how relieved Ron looked when the twins got up and left the common room. If he was upset with them about something, it wasn't Harry's place to get involved.


	9. Casting Illusions

Draco didn't eat much at breakfast. He was too preoccupied with watching Potter. Ever since the first day when he'd fallen asleep in his food, Draco had watched him and waited for him to do something half as amusing. The way it had taken a few seconds for the toast to fall off his face had been hilarious. It was one of the few times he had allowed himself to laugh genuinely in the company of his housemates.

Unfortunately the most interesting thing Potter had done since then was help the Weasley twins switch peoples' glasses. It was childish to find something as simple as that entertaining, so Draco didn't.

Greg grunted at him and held an apple in front of his face. Draco took it, ignoring the look that his friend gave him. He thought he was paying Potter too much attention, but Draco had explained it to him over and over again – they were rivals, and this was what they were meant to do. They were meant to keep a close eye on each other. They were meant to find weaknesses and take advantage of them.

His father had said it was a way of showing respect. A true rival knew more about you than a friend ever could, because he never took anything for granted. He was constantly listening and watching, learning everything that he could. A friend was content to say that they liked you. A rival looked beyond emotion to _understand._

And Potter was a worthy rival. He kept parts of himself hidden, probably to protect himself. He was friendly enough to suit the Gryffindors he associated with, but Draco had seen how he distanced himself from people when he didn't want to deal with them. It was subtle. They would probably never notice how he manipulated them.

Pretending not to hear something Weasley had said, answering the Granger girl's questions and then busying himself with something on the table. Eating something when Finnigan tried to talk to him, pretending to be interested in whatever Longbottom was saying which appeared to surprise the boy enough for him to shut up. It was masterful. There were Slytherins that weren't as good as Potter was.

Although that wasn't saying much. Draco had expected more from his house. The upper years were only interested in trivial gossip and snubbing the first years. The third and fourth years he'd met thought all they had to do was occasionally insult the other houses and they were doing Slytherin proud. The second years just did everything the upper years told them to, and the first years were all too busy getting lost and studying for classes to have worked out where they stood yet.

Idiots. Draco had studied before coming to school, like they all should have. It wouldn't do to be called on and not have the answer or to be beaten by someone from another house.

It wasn't a complete loss. Draco, Greg and Vince were of course all sitting comfortably, having prepared for Hogwarts and Slytherin house. Blaise Zabini had been flustered the first day but now acted as though he were incapable of it. A girl, Millicent Bulstrode, was the kind to beat a problem into submission. She was more temperamental than perhaps a Slytherin should be, but her aggressive approach worked well for her and already people knew she wasn't to be messed with.

The others were pawns, Draco just knew it. It would take a lot for any one of them to turn around now and show that they were anything better.

He bit into his apple, listening absently to the conversation that Vince was having with Blaise about one of their classes. Blaise was tearing him apart with his words but Vince was oblivious to it. It was interesting, but not as interesting as what Potter was doing with his cup...

He'd pulled out his wand, the twins distracting the others as he touched it to his cup. Draco saw his mouth move, and then the wand went back under the table. Potter said something to the twins and they abruptly stopped what they were doing, going back to their food. Granger said something to Potter and he shook his head at her. She looked annoyed, which Draco was happy about. He really did not like her. It must be her dirty blood that his pureblood sensibilities disagreed with.

Then...nothing happened. For several minutes. Draco put his half-eaten apple on his plate without moving his eyes from Potter's cup. Greg kicked him under the table but he ignored it. They were up to something, Potter and the Weasleys. He highly doubted that they would have gone to such lengths if all Potter wanted was to cast a spell to make his drink sweeter.

Greg kicked him again and Draco was going to turn and reprimand him when he saw something rise up out of the cup. It was a faint green light, which got larger and brighter and was followed by lights of several different colours, purple, blue, yellow, red...they rose up and began to assemble into shapes, and those shapes fit into one another to make one big shape...

People began to point and chatter as the lights spread out above the Gryffindor table, but the Gryffindors themselves didn't appear to notice what was happening. Draco saw the twins give Potter a high-five, and Potter grinned at them in the most infuriating way. Draco didn't know what they had done, and he hated not knowing things.

He could only watch as the lights moved around and guess what they were they were going to become. Professor Snape had stood up at the staff table and shouted for whoever was causing this disruption to stop immediately or face detention. No one paid much attention to him, and he fell quiet after Headmaster Dumbledore said something to him. The old man was smiling. His father had said that he was quite mad and Draco wasn't inclined to disagree.

Finally the lights became recognisable as a dragon, with scales all different colours and large black eyes. It looked around the Great Hall, the lights shifting and twinkling. It opened its mouth and roared so convincingly that someone screamed. At the staff table Dumbledore applauded, and one of the Gryffindors gave him an odd look before going back to her breakfast.

The dragon drew itself up and looked at the Ravenclaw table. Opening its mouth it blew 'fire' over their heads, which was really just dancing lights in blue and bronze, the Ravenclaw house colours. Some of the students reached out for them, though most just looked at them critically. The dragon bowed its large head at them and turned to the Hufflepuff table.

The Hufflepuffs were looking rather scared, which didn't surprise Draco in the least. The dragon blew more gently at that table, and the lights travelled more slowly, as if they were carried by a gentle breeze. People tried to grab the yellow and black lights, smiling and laughing as they disappeared on their skin. The dragon bowed to them, sending another smaller burst of light at the first years.

The dragon turned to the Slytherin table, and it spent a minute just watching them with its bright black eyes. A girl near Draco inhaled loudly and Vince hit her under the table.

Draco, meanwhile, didn't think that he was capable of breathing. The dragon seemed to have focused on him, its dark eyes somehow menacing, although he knew that Potter wasn't good enough at magic to make an illusion harm anyone or stupid enough to do it in front of their professors. Although, really he shouldn't have been good enough to create an illusion this elaborate, even if the Weasleys were helping him. Draco felt a twinge of fear.

The dragon's mouth opened and it spewed flames at the Slytherins, washing over them so that for several moments all Draco could see was green and silver. He managed to resist the urge to claw at the lights – it was uncomfortable not being able to see anything, but they were completely harmless aside – but he was one of the only ones. Even Vince was clutching at his robes, as if convinced that the light had pierced through them. Greg was making quite a show of it, picking up his plate and trying to slam it down on the lights to trap them. The candles around them all flickered, and more than one went out.

When the lights had faded and the dragon was laughing silently at them, Draco's eyes sought out Potter. He was eating his porridge along with the other Gryffindors who remained oblivious to the illusion right above their heads. His spoon paused halfway to his mouth and he looked back at Draco.

What was that emotion in his eyes? Pride, that his trick had worked so well? Pleasure, to have seen the Slytherins caught off-guard? Regret, that he'd played a part in something that had scared more than one student and ridiculed an entire house? Draco had to admit that he didn't know. He leaned in, as if that would make everything that much clearer...

And inexplicably, Greg kicked him again.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Severus began.

The class was completely silent. They'd only had him for five minutes and already knew not to misbehave around Severus. Harry supposed he must actually be a good professor, at least in that he could get and hold people's attention.

Ron scribbled something on a piece of parchment and slid it over to Harry. _This is going to be so boring, _it said. Maybe Severus wasn't so good at holding people's attention, then.

Against his better judgment he picked up his quill and wrote underneath Ron's message. _Why do you think?_

_I stayed up late last night to memorise potion ingredients and properties and whatever else. Seamus started a game of Exploding Snap upstairs, you know, and we missed it. I don't think anything's worth that._

_You take your games too seriously, Ron._

_At least I can admit to it. You and your Vratsa Vultures..._

_They're a brilliant team!_

_They don't even play in our League. You're the only person I know who doesn't go for a British team, even if they like a European one better. What do you do when the Vultures aren't playing here?_

_I wait for them to._

_You take your games too seriously, mate._

Harry smiled at that and Ron grinned at him. At the front of the room Severus was still talking, going on about the poetic beauty of a simmering cauldron. He didn't appear to have noticed the boys writing notes to each other in the back. But Hermione had, and she glared at Harry more powerfully than she ever had before.

_Hermione's not happy._

_She's only happy when she's studying. I don't understand it._

_You just can't understand why she didn't want to play chess with you the other day._

_It's chess! Everybody loves chess!_

_Muggles play it differently-_

Harry stopped writing mid-sentence and put his quill down quickly. Severus' speech had ended and he was now surveying the students in the room. "Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

He hardly even had to think about it. He would have to thank Hermione later. "The Draught of Living Death, sir," Harry answered.

The corner of Severus' mouth twitched. "Correct. Where, then, would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"A goat's stomach, sir." Harry remembered that well enough. He'd wondered why anyone had thought to check an animal's insides for something to use against potions. Some things were just better not to think about.

"Correct again," said Severus coldly. "It's a shame you appear to pay just as much attention to writing notes to Weasley as you do to studying. Five points from Gryffindor."

Harry winced, even before Hermione's head turned and she shot him another glare. Sitting in the row behind them he heard Draco and his friends snigger. He supposed he deserved it, but it annoyed him all the same. Severus didn't take points from them for laughing, either. At least he and Ron had been quiet.

The class split up into pairs to brew something called the Boil-Cure Potion. Hermione made a point of partnering with Dean, leaving Harry and Ron together. Ron just shrugged and went to get some of the ingredients. Harry set up the cauldron, talking absently with Neville who was sharing their table.

"I really don't think I can do this," Neville said nervously.

"You'll be fine," Harry told him, removing the lid from the cauldron and setting it down. On impulse he looked inside it. He couldn't really see much, but it seemed to be clean. He didn't know how potions worked but he'd cooked with his mother every now and then, and it was always a good idea to check that everything was as clean as it could be. "It's an easy potion, and you can always ask us if you're not sure about something. Hermione got us studying last night."

"It's not that. I just...I just drop everything. I'm really clumsy. My grandmother-"

"Don't worry," Harry interrupted him. If he stressed himself out before he even started, Neville was going to do worse than if he just stayed calm. It was the same for flying and Harry had done plenty of that. "Really. You're going to do okay. Seamus will keep an eye on you, won't you Seamus?"

"Aye," the boy agreed, dumping the ingredients he'd brought over onto the table. "Just stick with me, we'll manage."

Neville still looked uneasy, but there wasn't much more that Harry could do. Severus was walking around the room and watching them work. Harry doubted the man would ever much like him, but at least he could do well in his classes and leave him little to object to.

Their potion came along well, although Ron stirred it a bit more than was needed. It didn't seem to affect the potion which had to have been pretty basic. He didn't think Severus would actually _like_ someone to get it wrong and flood the classroom.

"Look at that," Ron muttered as he stirred in the crushed snake fangs. "I heard that Snape favours the Slytherins. He's Head of that house, you know."

Harry looked over and saw Severus smiling at Draco and complimenting him on his work. That...that was new. He wouldn't have thought the man capable of that kind of expression. Draco looked incredibly pleased with himself. That was less hard to believe.

"It doesn't matter. There's nothing wrong with our potion," Harry said, checking on their stewing horn slugs.

"It's probably better than theirs. Doesn't it bother you that he treats the Slytherins better than us? Professor McGonagall doesn't do that with us, even though she's Head of Gryffindor. It's unfair," Ron complained.

"Stop stirring, it's gone pink already. No, it doesn't bother me." _A lot of things are unfair, Ron, _Harry wanted to say._ Compared to some of them this is very small._

It wasn't fair that Remus hadn't had a choice in becoming a werewolf. He'd been turned and for the rest of his life he wouldn't have a choice in transforming once a month and being weak and tired for days. It wasn't fair that Harry couldn't have friends over whenever he wanted like Fred and George did, because the wards on his house were very strict. It wasn't fair that he didn't have the owl that he wanted, because it could be traced back to him and put him in danger.

It wasn't fair that Sirius still had nightmares about Azkaban, even though Peter had been caught and put away instead. It wasn't fair that his mother had to worry twice as much as anyone else's did. It wasn't fair that they couldn't go out as a family without people crowding in on Harry. It wasn't fair that he probably would never have a brother or sister to have fun with like Ron did.

There were a lot of things that Harry thought were unfair. Severus preferring one house over another really did not bother him.

"But-" Ron began.

"Are the porcupine quills meant to go in yet? I think so. Can you help me lift the cauldron?" Harry interrupted him.

Ron shook his head but moved to help him anyway. When their cauldron was sitting on the table away from the fire, Harry handed the quills to Ron and glanced over to Neville and Seamus. They were about to stir in their own quills, without taking the cauldron off the fire.

"No!" Harry dived forward and grabbed Neville's hand. The other boy looked at him confusedly. "If you do that, it'll ruin the cauldron. And probably the floor."

"He's right," Seamus said, looking at his book. "We need to take it off the fire. Thanks, Harry."

Neville went very pale, but helped Seamus with their cauldron and smiled weakly at Harry. He smiled back, trying to assure him that it was a little mistake and nothing bad had happened. Severus, he noticed, had seen everything but was ignoring it. Well, fine. If that was what he wanted to do.

"Have you stirred the quills in?" Harry asked Ron, who nodded. "Alright. Time to put in the slugs. Urgh, these things are horrible..." He wrinkled his nose as he lifted the jar of stewed slugs, and poured them in carefully so that the potion didn't splash.

Ron laughed. "They're not so bad, really. George and Fred have this collection..." he trailed off and busied himself with the potion.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Nothing. Hey, this is a nice colour, isn't it?" Ron wouldn't look him in the eye and Harry was immediately suspicious. He didn't say anything about it, though. Really, family business was between family. Whatever the twins had done...he might have to ask them about it later.

"I preferred the orange."

"Oh, yeah! It was like the colour of the Chudley Cannons' robes, wasn't it? Yeah, that wasn't bad either," Ron said with the same excitement he always had whenever his favourite team was mentioned.

If it wasn't for Severus about to walk over to them, Harry thought they would have fallen into another conversation about Quidditch. It never became dull even though they'd talked about it more than anything else since they'd become friends. Hermione didn't understand it, coming from a Muggle family, so she introduced different subjects to keep herself from getting bored. It was just as well, or their friendship mightn't have gotten any further than exchanging opinions on Williams' Seeking ability or whether the Tornados deserved their latest win.

Harry shushed Ron and together they lifted the cauldron back over the fire. When Severus walked by them, he glanced at their potion and sneered. "Wonderful, Potter. I'm glad to see you haven't followed in your father's footsteps, if only so that my classroom isn't ruined."

Beside him Ron bristled but Harry saw it for the compliment that it was. "Thank you, Professor Snape," he said. The words felt wrong but he said them as seriously as he could. Maybe if he was lucky Severus would be kind in his letters to his mother.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The Weasley twins had been punished for creating the dragon illusion at breakfast that day. They hadn't confessed exactly, but burst out laughing when it had disappeared. Since none of the other Gryffindors had shown any sign of seeing the illusion in the first place it was simple enough to pin it on them and they hadn't protested their innocence.

No one had even thought to look at Potter, who'd been sitting just across from them and appeared a good deal less confused than his housemates. He'd just sat there, eating his porridge as the illusion did its rounds of the room and then faded. When the twins were dragged off by Minerva he didn't look after them once.

It was true that he was only a first year and shouldn't have been capable of such magic, but the Weasley twins were only third years and it was only slightly less impossible that they could have been responsible for it. Knowing the boy's connection with Sirius Black, Severus was willing to bet that he'd played some part in it.

If he had, it was concerning. The illusion had been far less kind to Severus' own house than Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. It wouldn't be good for Potter to inherit his parents' prejudices. The reputation of Slytherin had suffered enough in its association with the Dark Lord. Severus wouldn't allow the students in his house to be overlooked because of that. His godson would not be mistreated because he was sorted into a house that had its own rich history, before the Dark Lord was ever at Hogwarts.

He didn't want to admit that Potter was smarter than he'd given him credit. He was good at Potions, though whether he continued to be remained to be seen. It was possible to have natural skill at potion-making, but even then it involved a significant amount of work. Severus himself was constantly researching and studying and practicing so that his skills didn't waste. After a few weeks most first years lost the motivation to study as hard as they had. This may well be the case with Potter.

It was a waste of his time to be thinking about it. Severus resolved to see Minerva and ask to be responsible for the twins' detention. There were some answers he would have to wait a good deal of time for, and others that he could have as soon as he asked for them.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Notes - **Some of the capitalisation was annoying me. From now on 'house' as in Slytherin or Gryffindor will be all in lower case, as well as 'sorted'. 'Sorting' as in the ceremony and the Hat will remain capitalised. I think it makes things easier to read, and it's true to the books as well. Leave a review!


	10. A Familiar Stranger

Saturday was a beautiful day, with the sky clear and the sun's rays warm and gentle. Harry wanted to take off his Invisibility Cloak and enjoy it properly. The material stopped him from feeling so much as a breeze if there was one, but he wasn't far away enough from the castle to take it off yet.

It wasn't expressly forbidden for first years to venture out to the grounds, but they acted as though it was. The common room or the Great Hall or the library was comfortable and safe. If Harry suggested going anywhere else, his friends became nervous. It was one thing for them to get lost and end up somewhere they hadn't been before by accident, and another to do it on purpose.

The only person who seemed half-willing to explore Hogwarts with him was Neville, and Harry thought he just wasn't able to say no. Ron liked the idea but was always caught up in playing games with people, or finding people who wanted to play games, or bragging about winning games. Seamus was happy to wander around but Harry could never find him, which probably said something. Everyone else looked at him as though he were mad when he asked.

That was why Harry had come out on his own, having arranged to meet the twins outside the Forbidden Forest. He'd told Ron and Hermione he was going to the greenhouse with Neville which would work unless he was spotted, hence the Invisibility Cloak.

Neville was at the greenhouse all the time now. He'd come late to dinner more than once, with dirt on his nose or leaves in his hair. Professor Sprout always waved at him from the staff table and sometimes they would talk in the hallways about things that Harry didn't understand. It was alright, though, if it made his friend happy. And it made for an excuse that Hermione would believe.

Harry walked past the Quidditch pitch and tried to guess how big it was. It was definitely bigger than his yard, where he'd practiced with his father. It was probably bigger than his entire house. A few people were flying, tossing a Quaffle to each other lazily. Someone flew upside down and got the others laughing. Harry missed his broom, since first years weren't allowed to have them, but they were going to start flying lessons this week and the thought of that cheered him up a bit.

He couldn't see Fred or George yet, even though he was near where they were meant to be meeting. It didn't really surprise him. There were a lot of ways you could get held up in Hogwarts, Peeves being the least of them. Harry didn't think they would have forgotten about him. He'd just sit down and enjoy the weather while he waited.

He was just about to take his cloak off when he saw that someone was already there. It wasn't one of the twins but a man, lying in the grass, asleep.

That was unexpected.

Harry didn't know what to do. His mother would have told him to turn around and walk away as quickly as he could. His father would have told him to check the man was okay first, and then turn around and walk away. Remus would want him to call a teacher. Sirius would want him to tie the man's shoelaces together for good measure.

But Harry recognised him. He was the man he'd seen at Diagon Alley, who had smiled at him and then disappeared. The hair that had caught Harry's eye then was now threaded through the grass, reminding Harry oddly of the Slytherin colours. The man had very pale skin but didn't seem to think much of falling asleep with his face to the sun. Maybe he just didn't tan the way Harry did.

Did he try to talk to him or walk away before the man woke up? Harry didn't think he could be a bad person. His smile had been kind, and the wards on Hogwarts had allowed him through. He was too old to be a student but maybe he knew one of the teachers, or Dumbledore himself. If he just asked...

But Lily had told him many times that he wasn't to trust people without reason. Just because Harry thought he mustn't be a bad person didn't make it true. He was the Boy-Who-Lived. He had to be careful. This man could be a reporter, or a kidnapper, or even a Death Eater. He should turn around right now and walk away...

But he didn't want to.

The man shifted a little and opened his eyes, blinking and sitting up. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling out a piece of grass and frowning at it before flicking it away. Then he spoke. "Hello."

Harry glanced down at his body. He was completely covered by the cloak. The man shouldn't have been able to see him. Confused, Harry looked around them for whoever he must be talking to. There wasn't anyone, unless they were also using an Invisibility Cloak, or a Disillusionment Charm that Harry couldn't see through but the man could. That made sense, it was-

"You can keep quiet like that if you'd like, but I know you're there," the man said. He sounded faintly amused, and was checking his hair for more grass that could be caught in it.

Harry had no idea what his parents would have told him to do in this situation. As far as he knew there was nothing that could see past the cloak, except for Mad-Eye who'd promised he'd ignore it if he ever saw him. This man was probably very powerful even if he looked young, and it would be smart of Harry to run away from him.

But, Harry reasoned, if there was a way to see past the cloak wouldn't it be in the interest of his safety to find out what it was?

"H-hello," Harry said hesitantly. He really, really hoped he wasn't making a mistake.

The man smiled. "Hello."

He was waiting for Harry to speak again. Harry wasn't sure what he should say. He finally settled on something he thought was safe. "What's your name?"

"I'm not sure yet," the man said oddly. "What do you think it should be?"

"You don't know where you came from?"

"Of course I do. But it's different here, so I should have a different name."

He supposed that made sense, in the same way finding someone who could see through your Invisibility Cloak made sense or asking a boy you'd never met before to name you made sense.

"Alright then. What name do you think I look like?" the man asked, gesturing at himself.

Harry thought for a minute. If he was going to do this, he might as well do it seriously. And he'd never got to name anything before. He'd never had a pet, since that snake that came to visit every now and then didn't belong to him and didn't really count.

He went through dozens of names in his head, while the man waited patiently. "Simon," he said finally.

The man blinked. "Simon?"

Harry nodded.

"Simon. Simon," the man repeated, and then began to laugh. "Simon! Good choice."

"It's just...I thought it was nice..." Harry said tentatively.

"No, really, it's a good choice. Just not what I would have expected," the man smiled. It was only now that Harry noticed he never looked directly at him. So he couldn't actually see him, then? Then how had he known Harry was there? "Yes, it's good. My name is Simon. What's yours?"

"Harry," he answered carefully. Simon hadn't asked for a last name, so he didn't feel he had to tell him his. If he was lucky he wouldn't realise who he was talking to.

"I knew that, actually," Simon admitted. Well, there went that.

"What? How?" Harry asked before he could stop himself. He clenched his teeth so that he couldn't say anything else foolish. If the man couldn't see him then he still had some advantage. He could still walk away and pretend this had never happened.

"I know things..." Simon paused, thinking over his words. "Before they happen," he finished.

"Oh, so you're a Seer then?" It all made sense now. Harry had read about Seers, who could see the future before they experienced it and made prophecies like the one about Harry defeating Voldemort. They were meant to be very rare, and he'd never actually met one before. He found himself becoming curious instead of wary.

Simon grinned at him. "Yes. I suppose I am."

"Alright then." Harry felt a lot more comfortable now. Seers were meant to be good and wise, since they saw the outcome of everything they did. It would take a lot to act selfishly or cruelly when you saw firsthand the suffering that it caused people. "What are you doing here?"

"I came here to be friends with you. You're going to need one in the next couple of years," Simon said simply.

"Oh," was all Harry could manage to that. "What about the friends I already have?"

"Can they see the future?"

"Good point," Harry said, playing absently with the cloak. He was trying to think if his parents would be happy about him talking to a Seer, and if that really changed anything. A significant part of Harry wanted to trust Simon, but it didn't come easily to him. "Umm...how much do you see?"

"Enough." He really wasn't giving Harry much to go on, and seemed to realise it if the way he kept trying not to grin was any indication.

"That's not very helpful."

"I know," Simon laughed. "And I knew it wouldn't be. Seer, remember?"

"Do you promise not to harm me?" Harry asked suddenly.

Simon sobered. "I do. I promise not to harm you, or anyone you care for. I'm not here for that. I'm just here to be a friend."

"Good," Harry said and tugged off the Invisibility Cloak, moving to sit down next to Simon. "I suppose I might as well talk to you, then. I like you well enough."

Simon laughed again. "I'm glad of that."

They were silent for a little while, with Harry resolved not to talk first. He had plenty of questions but they could wait until Simon had stopped being elusive. This resolve lasted up until some light shone off of his pale blonde hair, and then Harry was resolved not to touch it, although he really, really wanted to.

That didn't last very long either. "Can I touch your hair?" he asked.

"Oh. Yes, that's fine," Simon said and tilted his head down slightly. His hair fell gently past his face and Harry watched it admiringly.

It felt like the silk robes Lily wore on special occasions, but it was heavier than them and made a different sound when it moved. Harry had thought it would feel like liquid, but it didn't, although the strands ran over his fingers in a similar way. It was warm from the sun and softer than Harry had thought possible. "It's beautiful," he told him.

"I have that on good authority." There was a smile in Simon's voice. He seemed to find everything funny, which Harry didn't really understand.

Harry's fingers fell away, and he watched Simon for a moment. His hair _was _beautiful, and it felt nice as well. Did Draco's hair feel like that? It looked similar but he put gel through it every day. Maybe the only thing they had in common was the colour. A colour that, it occurred to him, was rare and Harry had only seen in one family. "Are you a Malfoy?"

"Not where I come from," Simon said. "I could be one here."

Harry nodded, but really he had no idea what he was talking about. If they were going to be friends he would just have to ignore it when Simon didn't make any sense. It was probably like that with a lot of Seers, they talked about things you'd only understand after other things had happened.

"They're not playing very well." Simon gestured at the people he'd seen flying earlier.

"No," Harry agreed. "But at least they're having fun."

"Do you think it's more important to have fun, or win?"

"Win," Harry answered, and Simon looked briefly surprised. "It's easy to forget having fun. When you win something you always remember it. Of course, it's the best when you can do both."

"I didn't see that one coming," Simon said under his breath. "But winning isn't always a good thing?"

"It should be. Just as long as the person losing hasn't lost too much. That's when it becomes bad."

A few moments of silence. "Did your parents teach you that?" Simon asked.

"My parents haven't taught me everything I know that's useful," Harry smiled. "But no. Remus told me that once."

"Ah, the wise old wolf. I should have known," Simon said, and then changed the subject. "What's your favourite position in Quidditch?"

"I think being a Beater is a lot of fun. I'm friends with the Beaters for Gryffindor this year; we used to swap positions all the time when we played Quidditch together. But I think my favourite is Seeker," Harry told him. "It's a shame first years don't get to bring their brooms."

"You'll get to play soon enough. What model is your broom?"

"Nimbus 1700," Harry said proudly. "Dad got it for me as soon as it came out. He said he wanted me to learn on the best." Simon started laughing again. At least it sounded nice, if he had to do it so often. "Why, what's yours?"

"I've got a Comet 260."

"Oh! Draco has one of those," Harry clapped his hands together. "That's a boy in my year. He talks about it all the time. My friend Ron says they're more expensive than they are useful, and I have to agree with him – no offense. I just don't think a broom has to be beautiful to fly well. My Nimbus is getting old now, the wood's faded and I have to take care of it so it doesn't splinter, but it still handles better than any other one I've been on."

"Draco?" Simon asked.

"Yeah, he's a first year like me, but he's in Slytherin and I'm a Gryffindor. We're..." Harry faltered. "...not meant to get along. House rivalries."

"That's unfortunate," Simon said quietly. "Maybe you could talk to him anyway?"

A thought suddenly occurred to Harry. "You would know. Are we friends in the future, me and Draco?" Simon's face became shuttered and Harry couldn't help but feel disappointed. "Don't worry. You don't have to answer that. It doesn't matter. I don't know why I expected anything different..."

"Do you want to be friends with him?"

"Yes. But our...our families don't like each other much." Harry began to toy with a piece of grass. "I don't know why. I guess I just thought since it didn't bother me, it wouldn't bother him either."

Simon didn't say anything to that. All of a sudden he stood up, brushing down his clothes and offering Harry a hand. "You should probably be getting back now," he said. "Hermione's planning on heading down to the greenhouse. If you dirty your hands up a little bit, she should believe that she missed you."

"Is it really strange, knowing everything that's going to happen?" Harry asked, accepting Simon's hand and letting him help him up.

"It's...bizarre," Simon confessed. "But there are still enough things that I don't know to make it interesting."

Curiosity got the better of Harry as he saw that Simon was about to Disapparate. He didn't know when he'd see him again, _if _he saw him again. "Do I ever get an owl?"

Simon grinned at him, more widely than he had before. "I give you one," he said, and then there was a popping noise and he was gone.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"He isn't still waiting for us."

"You know he isn't. Harry's smarter than that." Fred almost rolled his eyes but his brother wouldn't have appreciated that. He tried to focus on the book he was reading, which promised to teach him how to make illusions partially solid. The dragon had worked brilliantly, but hadn't scared the Slytherins quite enough for Fred's liking.

George sat in the armchair across from him, fidgeting and glancing constantly at the door. "Maybe we should check..."

"He wouldn't be there," Fred said firmly. He didn't know where Harry would be, but he would have gone off as soon as he realised that they weren't coming.

It was Snape's fault of course. He'd caught them as they were trying to leave the castle and said something about McGonagall giving him their detention. As if that made it alright for him to drag them off then and there and interrogate them about the illusion they'd cast. They'd run verbal circles around him long enough for him to give up and let them go.

By then Fred had figured Harry would have come back to the common room. That was where they were now, sitting and waiting for him to come back so that they could explain that Snape was a git.

"I think I'll just go and check the map..." George stood up and was about to head for the stairs when Fred gestured for him to sit down again.

"We lent it to Seamus," Fred reminded him.

"Oh. Right." And then George was back to his fidgeting and glancing. Fred thought he was on the verge of suggesting they send an owl when Harry came through the portrait.

He put his book down and went over with his brother, smiling apologetically at Harry. "Sorry, mate. We got caught by Snape," Fred explained.

"Hope you weren't waiting for us too long," George said. As soon as he saw Harry was okay he was right back to being his usual light-hearted self. Honestly. He was taking after their mother.

"Hey, what's up with your hands?" Fred frowned at them. They were covered in dirt, as though Harry had tried to wash his hands with it instead of water. Harry didn't seem to realise, and was about to scratch his nose or something when Fred spoke and he stopped.

"I was at the greenhouse," he told them. Which basically meant: _I was doing something really interesting and if Hermione finds out she'll kill me._

Fred grinned at him. "Did you enjoy yourself, then?"

"I particularly like the helianthuses," George added. "Very soothing."

Harry gave him a bewildered look, but didn't bother asking. He'd known them for long enough to realise that if he did, he would just get himself caught up further in things he didn't understand. Which was a shame. Fred rather enjoyed it.

"More interesting than enjoyable, really. There was a plant I hadn't seen before," Harry said. That meant: _I met someone really strange._

"What was it like? We might have covered it in class." _What was strange about them? Was it a student?_

Harry shook his head. "It was kind of, erm, tall. Taller than me. And very pretty. I don't think it was meant for classes."

Fred and George exchanged a look. So it was a girl, then. Not just that, but an _older_ girl.

"Maybe Professor Sprout was growing it for fun? Or Pomfrey wanted it for the infirmary?" _Was it a staff member or someone related to someone on staff?_

"Yeah. Did it look medicinal?" Fred almost laughed and his brother elbowed him. He'd been doing that a lot lately.

"I'm not sure. Maybe Dumbledore just wanted it around. I've heard he's odd like that." Harry shrugged. That didn't really need translating. Harry was brilliant at saying things that were technically true, but didn't mean what people would have expected them to. A couple of years at Hogwarts and he might even be able to get the better of the twins.

"Right. Are you going to let us see it?"

Harry had to think about that for a moment. "I'm not sure it'll be happy about that..."

"You guys are really strange sometimes, you know that?" Dean said as he walked past. George managed to readjust the boy's tie, and Dean stuck his tongue out at him as he fixed it. He walked through the portrait door without looking. It was probably a side-effect of being best friends with Seamus, that he'd become extraordinarily coordinated. It was either that or end up in the infirmary every second day. Lee had been like that with them. After a few wrongly given directions and sabotaged pieces of furniture he'd gotten quick on his feet.

"I don't know. I might not even see it again," Harry said. "I'll talk to you guys later, okay? I'm going to go down to the library."

"You should probably wash your hands first," George pointed out.

"What do you want to go to the library for?" Fred asked, curious. It wasn't like Harry to study unless someone else was doing it, or an adult was standing over him with a wand and a stern look.

"I wanted to look something up," Harry said, as if that weren't already obvious. "Have you ever heard of Seers?"

"Rings a few bells..."

"You should talk to Percy, he takes Divination."

"Thanks. I'll see you later." Harry waved and went to go back through the portrait, before turning around and going up the stairs. He'd forgotten to wash his hands.

"They're so cute before they learn Cleaning Spells," Fred murmured, and George laughed. "He was fine, wasn't he? You worry too much. You're going to turn out like Percy."

George's expression was one of mock outrage and he jumped on his brother, looping an arm around his neck and trying to drag him to the floor. Fred laughed as well as he could when he was getting nearly choked and tried to get him back. They tussled for a bit, quite aware that they were scaring a couple of first years and serving as entertainment for some of the older students. They were having fun and that was all that mattered, at least until Percy came down.

They stopped to let Harry past and wave goodbye. Fred wondered absently why Harry had gone from girls to Seers, before George got one of his arms and he became distracted.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Notes - **There is no way I'm being subtle about this. If you can't work out who Simon is, or at least make a reasonable guess, then I'll be surprised. If you can't the next few chapters are going to be a lot of fun for you. If you can, then I'm sorry for giving him such a strange name! It was the first one I thought of and I liked it. It seemed kind of Harry-ish. Leave a review and tell me what you think!


	11. Quidditch

Draco was _very _annoyed. As much as he'd been looking forward to flying lessons, he wasn't happy with the broom he was expected to use. He understood that this was a school and it was probably expensive to keep dozens of brooms that students were using constantly, but this one didn't even look properly maintained. It had pieces of wood jutting out of the handle, it was faded and scratched and what few twigs were still attached to it stuck out in all different directions.

And it was a _Tinderblast. _Even the training brooms he'd had as a child were better than a gods-damned Tinderblast.

Greg didn't look happy either, staring down at the broom at his feet with the small amount of distaste he would allow himself to show. He had a Nimbus 1001 at home, which was too old to really be much good but was infinitely better than the school brooms.

Next to him Vince touched his broom with his foot, frowning at it. His father was something of a broom enthusiast, and had given Vince an updated Oakshaft 79 for his eleventh birthday. It was wasted on him and Draco privately thought that Mr. Crabbe would take it back once Vince had flown it a few times. It would take only that long for him to realise that his son was likely to crash just for the fun of it.

"I can't read that. What does it say?" Vince said stupidly. The letters on the broom _were _faded, but honestly. Even Draco could work out what the broom was, and his father didn't hang pictures of the different models all around their house.

Greg looked at Draco with exasperation in his eyes. "I dunno," he said in the same kind of way that Vince had and shrugged his shoulders heavily. Draco sometimes pitied him. He didn't enjoy playing the fool, but they both knew it was necessary.

"'Tinderblast', Vince. I should have known they'd give us brooms like this. They're better suited for a fire than flying," Draco said arrogantly. "I should tell my father. He's on the Board of Governors, you know-"

"Missing your Comet 180, Draco?" Blaise interrupted him. He had picked up his broom and was patting down some of the splintered wood. There was nothing offensive in the way he spoke or smiled at Draco, but he had no doubt that he'd gotten the model wrong deliberately.

"260," Draco corrected with a glowering look.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Brooms aren't really my thing," Blaise said smoothly. His fingers ran over the worn paint and he rubbed them together and glanced at them before putting the broom down again. "I already know how to fly of course, but I'm sure I won't do nearly as well as a few people in this class. Like..." He looked Draco up and down, before flicking a hand to Potter. "...Harry, for example."

Draco wanted to hit him. But if he did Greg would kick him again, and his shin was getting really sore. And it would get back to his parents and then it would be more than his shin that would hurt. He wouldn't try anything, and Blaise knew it. "Potter? I doubt he could keep himself upright." It wasn't a perfect comeback but he was angry, and only got angrier when Blaise smirked at him.

"It's true his mother's a Muggle-born, but his father was a Chaser for Gryffindor when he went here. Quite a good one, I heard. And of course you've heard the Weasley twins go on about how wonderful Harry is at Quidditch. What do you think," Blaise turned to look at Potter, who was further down the line. "Keeper? Seeker, maybe?"

Draco picked up his broom, just so that he could have something to grip that wasn't Zabini's throat. Greg exhaled softly but, as usual, Draco ignored him. They could argue about this later. For now he just had to go an hour without tackling his housemate.

It would be so much easier if Blaise didn't keep saying Potter's name. As far as Draco knew, the two had never even spoken. It was too familiar. It made Draco uncomfortable. He didn't like Potter, and he didn't want him getting close to someone in his house. He didn't want him getting close to someone who _shared_ a _room_ with Draco. If they became friends, and Blaise brought him around all the time, and Draco had to see him any more than he already did... He barely suppressed a shudder.

Blaise smiled widely. That was ominous. "Maybe we should ask him," he suggested. "Hey, Harry! What position do you like?"

Greg grabbed Draco's shoulder and pressed down on it firmly. He was going to have to thank him for that later, since it was all that stopped him from jumping on Blaise. Now that the Gryffindors were watching he had to be careful not to do anything embarrassing. They were the reckless ones. Slytherins were calm, and poised, and certainly _didn't_ want to snap their housemate's broom in half.

Potter had been talking to Longbottom about something – probably trying to calm the boy down, the way he had in Potions. It hadn't been successful then and didn't look as though it was being successful now, judging by Longbottom's white face and trembling hands. Weakness. How _had_ he gotten himself into Gryffindor? They were meant to be brave to a fault, and he was frightened of a _broom?_

But when he heard Blaise call out to him Potter looked over at the Slytherins, patting Longbottom absently on the shoulder. "What?"

"Just ignore them, Harry, they're just messing around anyway," Weasley said to him, sending dark looks at Draco. Potter just waved at him to get him to be quiet, and like a good boy, he did. He kept them well-controlled. That was another thing to admire about his rival.

"In Quidditch. What position do you play?"

Potter grinned and by the looks of things it surprised not only Draco. "What position do you think I play?" he said, drawing himself up and puffing out his chest.

"You're a Seeker." Blaise folded his arms. "Obviously. They get hit more than anyone else on the field, most times. I bet the Bludgers love you."

Potter laughed – _laughed! _"It's the glasses. Play the sport yourself, Zabini?"

"When I have the time. What do you think I am?"

"Hmm...the referee?" Potter smiled, and Blaise shook his head. "Well, it was worth a shot. I'm thinking you're a Chaser. You see what you want...and then throw it through a hoop."

Now it was Blaise's turn to laugh and throw all memory of the fact that Slytherins and Gryffindors _did not get along _out the window. Along with the aloofness he was always showing people, and subtlety. "I like you. You're interesting. Want to go a few rounds later?"

_Go a few rounds of what? _Draco's mind screamed in frustration.

"Sure. See you then," Harry smiled and turned back to Longbottom as if nothing had happened. Blaise did much the same, picking up his broom again and trying to straighten a few of the twigs without breaking them off. They either didn't notice or completely disregarded the Gryffindors and Slytherins that were staring at them.

Of course, it was then that Madam Hooch decided to turn up. She looked between them and frowned. "Do I have to break something up here, or can you all stand next to your brooms and pay attention?"

Everyone shuffled around a bit until she was satisfied, and Draco's next trial was pretending to be interested as she told them all to stick their hand over their broom and say 'up'.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Charms wasn't a bad subject, but the classroom it was taught in happened to have a lot of windows. That was unfortunate for Oliver Wood, who would sit and stare out of them and daydream about Quidditch instead of paying attention to Professor Flitwick.

Instead of sitting there he would rather be flying. That was nothing new. He would always rather be flying, and would fly instead of walking if Professor McGonagall hadn't yelled at him those few times. Oliver was a good student when he was kept away from windows, and he didn't want to anger her. Particularly now that they were Head of House and Quidditch Captain, and he had to make her happy or she could pull him off the team. Or at least _away_ from it for a little while.

Percy coughed loudly and Oliver turned to look at him. "What?"

"Pay attention," Percy hissed. "He's going to call on you."

"Really?" Oliver blinked. "What are we covering?"

Percy took off his glasses and rubbed his nose tiredly. "If I tell you will you explain to me how you managed to make it to fifth year? I don't know anyone who works as little as you."

"Deal." He wanted to defend himself but it was probably a good idea to find out what he needed to know before Percy got mad and pretended to ignore him. His friend was rather temperamental. It was a good trait in a Beater, if Percy would only come along to Quidditch practice...Oliver had been trying to get him on the team for years, just like Percy had been trying to get him to study.

Percy gave him an annoyed look, and pulled out his glasses case so that he could clean them. "He's just spent the last ten minutes talking about Colour Change Charms. You _do _know how to do one of those, don't you?"

Oliver's gaze had already wandered back to the window. "Huh? Oh, sure..."

"Oliver!" Percy said, loudly enough for the rest of the class to look at them.

"Mr Weasley, Mr Wood? Is everything all right?" Professor Flitwick asked them. He was a good guy, giving Oliver the benefit of the doubt where some of the other teachers would have given him detention. Oliver rather liked him, and had managed very well in his classes until they'd been moved to this room in fifth year.

"Yes, sir," Oliver said. Percy appeared to be beating himself up mentally for disturbing the class and he didn't answer.

Professor Flitwick beamed. "Good. Could you demonstrate the charm we were just discussing, then? I've got to keep you all on your toes."

Oliver gave Percy a grateful smile and got a glare in return. He took out his wand and pointed it at, of all things, the window he'd been distracted by. He was about to enchant it red when the door opened and Professor McGonagall stuck her head through it. "Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

"Certainly. Mr Wood, if you would," Professor Flitwick said and then chuckled at the rhyme.

Pushing together his books he picked them all up at once, ignoring the pieces of paper that were sticking out everywhere. Oliver stuffed his quill into one of them and picked up his inkwell. "See you later then, Perce," he said to his friend and stood up, almost tripping over his chair and dropping his books everywhere.

Percy looked as though he wanted to slam his head on his desk. It would be a lie to say that half of his carelessness wasn't deliberate. No one else had the ability to irritate Percy quite like he did and Oliver was proud of the fact. He gave him a wave as he passed through the door, pretending to fumble with his books again and grinning when Percy took his glasses off, placed them off to one side of the desk, and then slammed his head on it.

He didn't understand why people said that Percy wasn't fun.

Outside of the classroom was a first year, looking very nervous. He seemed about as surprised to see Oliver as Oliver was to see him. This was Harry Potter. Why had Professor McGonagall taken both he and Harry Potter out of classes? Unless he'd done something wrong and forgotten, and they were being punished together. But he thought if he had done something Percy would have told him.

"Follow me, you two," Professor McGonagall said briskly. They did. Oliver couldn't help but sneak glances at Harry, who he'd never actually met before. He'd seen him at the Welcoming Feast, since he was friends with the twins and Oliver was friends with Percy and Percy always took it upon himself to keep an eye on his troublemaking brothers when he could. Harry had only been a few seats away, but he'd ended up distracted by Angelina and hadn't spoken with him.

Angelina, now, she was a great Chaser. The team wouldn't be where it was without her. Though she never listened to him when he told her as much, and her modesty just made him like her more. _You play better when you're not overestimating yourself, _Oliver thought. _Underestimating your own ability is best, so long as you have the drive to play well and win. And Angie has the drive. I don't know where we'd be without her, especially now I'm going to have to take on a substitute Seeker..._

"In here," said Professor McGonagall and Oliver was jolted out of his thoughts. He let Harry walk in first and then followed him into the empty classroom. "Out, Peeves!"

Oliver tried not to laugh when Peeves swooped on him as he left the room. He'd never found the poltergeist that frightening. He was a bit like the twins without responsibility. You could enjoy his pranks if you looked at them the right way.

Finally they were told what they were doing here. "Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood – I've found you a Seeker."

"Are you serious, Professor?" Oliver asked. If she was, this was brilliant. Utterly, utterly brilliant. Worth getting pulled out of Charms for and having to listen to Percy later when he complained about it brilliant.

"Absolutely. The boy's a natural. He's taken after James, I should think."

"But I can't play!" Harry protested.

"If you didn't it would be a loss for our house, Potter. I won't have you sitting on that talent when it could be put to some use," Professor McGonagall said sternly.

Harry gaped. "First years-"

"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. _Flattened _in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks... I suggest you write home to your parents Potter, and ask them to send you your broom."

Looking at him now, Oliver could see a lot of potential. Harry had a Seeker's build, light and slender. His vision might be a problem, but then again it might not be, one Seeker for the Montrose Magpies had been blind after all... He was small but he could work that to his advantage. Oliver trusted Professor McGonagall's judgment, if she said he could fly he could fly. Exactly how well was something he was looking forward to finding out.

"Played much before, Harry?" Oliver asked him excitedly.

"A fair bit with my dad, yeah. And I used to have matches with George and Fred when they were back from school," Harry said, still looking nervous. Maybe he needed to tone down his enthusiasm a little.

"Position?"

"Seeker, although I tried a few others," Harry answered and Oliver nodded furiously.

"Yes, yes, yes, this is good. Perfect. I owe you one, Professor."

"It is for Gryffindor, after all," Professor McGonagall said. "But you're quite welcome. Now, Potter, I want to hear you're training hard or I may change my mind about punishing you. A dive like that was completely inappropriate. Even if you are confident of your abilities, imagine what might happen if someone less competent tried to copy you? That said," she smiled at Harry. "Do your best. I'm sure your father will be thrilled to hear that you've joined his old team. He took a lot of pride in this, as you no doubt know."

"Yes, Professor." Harry grinned suddenly. "He still has the trophies. Leaves them lying in really strange places. Dad'll be excited as anything."

"James Potter...and here I was thinking Evans would be good for him..." Professor McGonagall said quietly and shook her head. "Alright. Back to your classes then, boys. Wood will see you about practices later, Potter, and I expect you to attend all of them." She left the room with one backwards glance to make sure they were moving.

Oliver said goodbye to Harry and walked back to his class with a spring in his step. _Just wait until Percy hears about this!_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

When Harry went into the Owlery that night, he was surprised to find someone already there. "Simon!"

"Harry. Sending a couple of letters?" Simon had been standing at the window, but he turned when he heard Harry arrive and smiled, although he clearly didn't know where to look.

"Yeah. I have something I want to tell my family about." Harry pulled off his Invisibility Cloak and draped it over his arm, pulling a couple of envelopes out of his pocket. "Today was... Oh."

"I can't see everything, you know. And even if I did, I'd still like to hear you talk to me about it," Simon assured him. He held out a hand and Harry gave him the cloak without thinking. It made it easier to find his quill and inkpot in his robes as well as keep a firm grip on the letters without putting anything down. The floor wasn't dirty, but it wasn't exactly clean either.

"I got picked for the Gryffindor Quidditch team!" Harry told him excitedly. He got out his quill and put it in the hand with the envelopes, going back to rummaging through the folds of material to find his inkpot.

"That's wonderful," Simon said, looking as happy and proud of Harry as he thought his own parents might. He couldn't help but feel like he'd done something a lot greater than catching Neville's Remembrall.

"Yes." He found his inkpot, wrapped up in an old handkerchief so that it wouldn't stain his clothes if it leaked. He began to juggle with the things in his hands, trying to get one of the envelopes open so that he could write something more on the parchment inside. "And now Oliver Wood – he's the captain – is going to train with me so that I can play against Slytherin in a couple of months. Isn't that great?"

"It is. How about I hold that inkpot for you, so that it won't get dropped..." Simon tucked the Invisibility Cloak under one of his arms and took the inkpot, opening it and resting the lid on one hand on the handkerchief.

"Thanks." It made it much easier for Harry to pull out one of the letters and begin to write.

With a little bit of manoeuvring Simon got out his wand and cast a spell. "_Lumos_." A ball of light appeared at the end of the wand, floating away from it and settling over Harry's shoulder. It was brighter than the candles that were scattered around the room and he was grateful for it.

It looked like the spell that Severus had cast the night Harry had followed him. "How do you do that?" he asked, dipping his quill carefully into the ink and beginning to scratch words onto the parchment.

"The Wand-Lighting Spell? It's very easy. You'll learn it in Charms," Simon told him.

"Really?" Harry frowned as he tried to remember how to spell a word.

"Yes. All first years do. It's practical; most people have used it at least once. I've even seen Dumbledore cast it."

Harry looked up at him curiously. "Did you go to Hogwarts?"

"I did."

"I thought you came from somewhere else?"

"I got there after I graduated." Simon was smiling again, like he knew something Harry didn't. Which was probably the case.

Fairly satisfied with that answer, Harry went back to finishing his letter. "Which house were you in?"

"The one I wanted to be in."

Harry gave him a look of mild annoyance, but left it alone. If he didn't want to tell him that was his choice. He probably had his reasons, and at least he was telling Harry _some _things, even if he was being incredibly vague about them. "Did you play Quidditch?"

Simon grinned at him. "I was a Seeker, actually. Like you."

"Really? You don't look like one," Harry said bluntly. He was slender enough but he was also tall and didn't look as though he weighed much. Simon looked far too delicate to play Quidditch, and unless he was hiding some muscle under his nondescript robes Harry rather thought he'd blow over in the wind if he tried to play.

Simon laughed at that, apparently not finding it rude. "Well, I wasn't very good. I really should have been a Chaser, but there were already two on the team and one on reserve. I also really wanted to be Seeker. That's the person everyone's looking at. I liked that kind of attention."

"That's not a good reason to play," Harry said, blowing on the ink and sliding the letter into its envelope.

"No, it isn't. Why do you like being a Seeker?"

Opening up another of the letters, Harry thought for a moment before he answered. "It's the feeling. Flying by itself is brilliant, but when you're flying with a _purpose... _And even though you're working in a team, it almost feels as though it's just you and the Snitch. You don't have to worry about anything else if you don't want to. It's very personal." Harry smiled sheepishly. "I guess I can't really explain it."

"I understand what you mean. I love flying too, even if I'm not great at Quidditch," Simon smiled back at him. "So, who are the letters for?"

"Mum, Dad, Remus, Sirius...I was considering sending one to Molly, but I think I'll just ask to put something on the end of Ron's letter instead. I was trying to write these earlier but I'm not meant to tell anyone that I'm on the team, and if I'd gone off to write them it would have been suspicious," Harry explained. "Oh, Sirius is my godfather and Remus-"

"I know, I know. You don't have to explain all of that to me," Simon said. "If I have a question I'll make sure I ask it. Is that alright?"

"Sure!" Harry smiled at him. "Do you want to say anything to my parents? I mentioned you in my letters last week."

Simon considered that. "...alright," he said finally. "Maybe just to your mother, though. Your father scares me a bit."

"You're kidding, right?" Harry laughed, and then sobered. "You _are_ kidding?"

Simon gave him a look. "James Potter can be a very intimidating man."

"Dad scares you," Harry said disbelievingly.

"A bit, I said. A little tiny bit."

"He scares you and Mum doesn't at all? It's usually the other way around."

"So I've heard, but Lily's been nothing but kind to me," Simon said with a hint of fire in his eyes. It made them look brighter, like light was reflecting off metal.

Harry studied him. "Have you met them before?"

"Yes," Simon answered. "But...they wouldn't be able to recall me."

Silence for a minute, while Harry tried to think about what that could mean. He shook his head and took the cloak and inkwell from Simon, handing him a letter and the quill. "Here, this is the one to Mum. I've mentioned you in it already, if you want to read it. I don't mind."

When Simon was done he checked the ink was dry and gave the letter back to Harry. His writing was small and neat, with flourishes in odd places. His 'b's and 'd's, the letters with long stems, were very tall and curved. It looked strange next to Harry's messy, sprawling handwriting. He wondered how long he must have practiced to be able to write like that.

They called down a school owl and it settled on Simon's arm, waiting for Harry to tie the letters to its leg. He cast the spell for the wards quietly, but Simon didn't lean in to hear what it was. Either he didn't care or he already knew it. Harry was beginning to feel that he could trust him. After all, he hadn't grabbed Harry's cloak and run. And he'd written to Lily, and seemed to know his parents more intimately than he would just from the papers.

That was either really good or really bad.

They watched the owl fly off, and Harry decided his family could work that out for him. While they did, he'd keep having fun but strange conversations with Simon and maybe get him to teach him _Lumos._

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Notes - **I ship Oliver x Percy. I think it'll be a nice little subplot to tide me over until the boys get old enough to really like each other. It should be balanced out by all the heterosexual pairings that I have planned, but if you like it or don't like it tell me in a review and I might move around some things. Oh, and how are people feeling about Blaise? I'm curious. :)


	12. Letters 1991

**Notes - **There are two chapters going up today because one is entirely made up of letters. You don't have to read these to understand the regular chapters, they just give a bit of background. There are some new plot points in these letters, but they'll be mentioned again when they come up later. From now on time will pass more quickly so we can get to the later years faster. Everything should be explained, but if it isn't just tell me in a review and I'll fix it.

The spell in this chapter is _Oriorum Cando, _from the Latin 'orior' meaning 'rise, become visible, appear' and 'candidus' which means 'bright, shining, white'. The meaning is a bit more vague than usual. You'll find out what it does in the story, or I'll mention it in an author's note.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_Dear Remus,_

_What exactly is between us and the Malfoys? Draco came to me on the train on the way to Hogwarts and formally requested my friendship. Then he threw insults at me and the people I was with, trying to get me to refuse. I asked him why he wanted us to be friends. He said that I should want our families to get along._

_I said no, of course, and he made me list off all the reasons why. I don't know why he seemed to hate me so much. I don't remember doing anything wrong. I thought it might have been something between our families, but the feud that I know of wouldn't have been enough to make him dislike me that much. _I _don't dislike him that much. Was there something Mum never told me?_

_You can tell me, Remus. It affects me now._

_I'm doing well here, although some of the plants we look at in Herbology are actually frightening. We had to wear earmuffs when learning about this one kind of root, which screams when you pull it out of the ground. Someone didn't put them on properly and fainted. He's still in the infirmary._

_From Harry_

-x-

_Dear Harry,_

_I remember that plant. We had to look after one in pairs in our third year. Sirius spent so long trying to create a spell that would lift someone's earmuffs off that he didn't notice James come up behind him and show him a much simpler way. He woke up in the infirmary mid-incantation. It was quite funny, although your father got detention for two weeks over it. I wouldn't recommend trying it for yourself, unless you know the other person will take it well and doesn't know as many hexes as Sirius did._

_About the other part of your letter...I wish you hadn't asked me. I wish this whole thing hadn't affected you at all. I thought that Draco Malfoy wouldn't be affected by what was going on between your families. I'm sorry Harry, but it's not my place to say. Write to your parents and ask them. Maybe we can arrange a fire-call?_

_Remus_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_Dear Mum,_

_School is brilliant. Charms is my favourite class so far. We've started to learn 'Wingardium Leviosa' and it's really cool, except I keep levitating things too high. Ron's always go sideways rather than up and down, and it's the only class where I do better than Hermione. She can't understand why whatever she's trying to levitate just jumps around a bit. Do you know why that could happen? Professor Flitwick says hello, as well._

_I gave your letter to Severus. I'm to call him 'Professor Snape' now, except it's hard to get used to. No one knows that we already knew each other. I've been very careful, just like you told me. Severus seems happy about it, although I don't know if I've ever actually seen him happy. He smiles every now and then but it doesn't look quite right._

_I met Draco Malfoy again on the train. He doesn't seem to like me very much. We haven't talked since then and just avoid each other. He was sorted into Slytherin. In Gryffindor everyone is always smiling and laughing and talking. It's not like that in Slytherin. I wonder if he's lonely._

_Can you ask Dad to send me a few of my posters? He knows which ones I like. I didn't expect the beds to be so big here._

_Love you,_

_From Harry_

-x-

_Harry_

_It's starting to cold again, so I'm sending you another jumper. I know you already have a couple but I don't think it could hurt, could it? It's better to be too warm than slightly cold. If it goes for weather, it goes for people._

_Your friend's spell probably isn't working because she's putting too much emphasis on the wand movements. Unlike other types of magic, casting charms is delicate. The smaller and more precise the movements, the better. As for Ron, I'd say that he's probably doing the movements the wrong way. Maybe he just copied what the professor did without reversing it? It's easy to do. I did it enough times. I'm proud of you for doing well, Harry. I'm glad that you're enjoying it._

_Say hello to Professor Flitwick for me. I think I might owl him. It's been a long time since we talked, and like you I always liked his class. I hope you're being respectful to Severus. He won't always deserve it, but he's your professor now and that means you have to be polite to him. Thank you for delivering the letter for me. I've already heard back from him. I shouldn't need you to do it again._

_Please keep away from the Malfoy boy. Even if he _is _lonely, you don't need to go and make friends with him. You have to be careful around Slytherins. They might seem to be one thing, but they can be something completely different underneath. Promise me that you'll keep away from him, and his house. I don't want to see you get hurt._

_Your father would have sent all of your posters and tried to smuggle your broom in for you as well, but I noticed that the package was extraordinarily large and broom-shaped and stopped him before he could send it. When you come home, we'll have to do a lot of flying to make up for you not being allowed to do it at school just yet._

_I love you very much,_

_Lily_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_Dear Dad,_

_Ron thinks you're a fool for backing the Falcons, when O'Hare is clearly the better Keeper and the Kestrels understand that there's more to a game than hurling around Bludgers. Seamus also would like me to write that the Falcons haven't won in years, and they're not going to unless they straighten up and stop getting penalised for causing injury, and that the Kenmare Kestrels actually know how to follow the rules and play the game and deserve their spot in the League for more than just entertainment value..._

_I'm not writing the rest of that. They're Seamus' favourite team and he could go on for more parchment than I've got. I'm considering just passing on letters between you, so that you can get far more animated than the subject deserves without bothering to use me as a middleman. It's obvious that the Vultures would thump them both. You lot should just be counting yourselves lucky that they play for Europe, not Britain._

_Neville says hi. He just got out of the infirmary again, although he seems oddly happy to have been in there in the first place, I'm not sure why... Oh. Apparently he liked the plants. You can't say Hogwarts isn't filled with interesting people. Dean isn't around just now, which is just as well or my letter would get too long._

_Most of my classes are fine, although I don't like the star-watching they get us to do and we haven't started flying yet. I like Charms, and I'm good at it too. Professor Flitwick says it's in the blood. I'm assuming he doesn't mean you._

_Seamus is _still _going on. That's it. I'm getting him to write his own letter, and I'll send it to you with this one. Write him back, would you? He just loves to fight with people over Quidditch._

_Oh, sorry. Over the Kestrels._

_From Harry_

-x-

_Dear Harry,_

_A fool to back the Falcons, eh? They won the match, even if Flanagan did get pulled off the field twice for obstruction. A clever man backs the team that will win. A fool backs the team that he wants to win. Unless it happens to be his favourite, and then he backs it either way. _

_Speaking of, did you hear the Prides are going to play in Cornwall? I know your mother isn't keen on it, but I think I can persuade her to go and see the match. Sirius is already making banners up. You should see them – huge, and he got the star around the wrong way. We haven't told him yet. It's great that he gets so involved, even though he doesn't like Quidditch as much as the rest of us._

_I never was any good at Charms, you're right. But I was always much better at Transfiguration than your mother. She once turned a teapot into a cake, which would have been all well and good if we weren't meant to be turning them into vases. Remus ate it without realising. We kept an eye on him for days, but it didn't appear to affect him. No sudden urges to pour tea from his mouth or anything._

_(We still haven't told him about that, so it's best if you keep that to yourself. Wouldn't want him panicking now, when it's a few years too late.)_

_I've sent the posters you asked for, the ones you would have wanted and a few more that I think your roommates would appreciate. Give one of the Falcons ones to Seamus, would you? Along with the letter to him that I've put with this. He sounds like he'd appreciate it._

_Have fun in your classes, and write me all about the mischief you've been making. Sirius won't let me see his letters and he keeps crowing over them. If he's impressed I've no doubt I will be._

_Dad_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_Dear Sirius,_

_We did a few glass-switching tricks the first week to keep the professors from getting suspicious. Today we used the illusion spell you taught me, with a few adjustments. The dragon blew fire all around the Great Hall. We got the Slytherins, just like you asked us to. Fred had it laugh at them afterwards. George wasn't entirely happy about that. The illusion worked well and the Gryffindors couldn't even see it. They just ate their breakfast and thought Fred and George were strange for laughing really hard. When it was done Professor McGonagall dragged them out and gave them detention. Severus looked at me strangely but no one even suspected that I'd cast it. Fred thinks he can make it better, and then we might try it again. We're going to change the school banners next._

_From Harry_

-x-

_Harry,_

_That's brilliant. How did you make it so the Gryffindors didn't notice? Good luck with the banners. Try asking a fifth year about Colour Change Charms._

_Sirius_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_Dear Mum,_

_Hermione's doing loads better at Charms now and she's helping me in Transfiguration. Ron tried doing what you said but nothing's changed. He thinks it might be that his wand's not working. The hair's sticking out a lot more now. It's not his fault, he just forgets about it and bumps it around a bit more than he should. He keeps drawing it on Malfoy when we pass him in the halls. I said he doesn't have to, but Malfoy says things that he doesn't like. Ron thinks that he's defending me._

_I met someone the other day, out near the Forbidden Forest. I named him Simon. He's a Seer, and knows where I am even when I'm wearing the Invisibility Cloak. I was careful, I promise, but he's really nice and hasn't done anything. He says that he wants to be my friend and that I'm going to need one. Please don't be worried. I might not even see him again._

_George thinks that he saw a portrait of you in the east wing. Do you have one here? I didn't know that there were portraits of either you or Dad. I hope it is you, so that I can talk with it and feel like I'm back at home already. Hogwarts is great but I miss all of you. I love you._

_From Harry_

-x-

_Harry, oh Harry. Why did you talk to someone that your father and I don't know? I'm very worried. How old is this Simon? What do you mean, you 'named him'? Sweetheart, some people can seem nice but actually aren't. I don't know this man but what I'm hearing doesn't sound good. Go and see Dumbledore and tell him about the person that you met. You can trust him to look out for you. Once you have, write to me what he said. This is very important. I know you would be careful, I know, but please, be really, really careful. I just hope that this Simon doesn't come to see you again. If he does you _must_ take him to Dumbledore and write to me immediately. I love you too, Harry. That's why I ask you to do these things, because I want to see you safe._

_Lily_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_Dear Dad,_

_What do you think it's like to see the future? You'd know who would win at every match. Do you think you'd still like the team you do if you knew they wouldn't win another game? I think I would. I just wouldn't put any money on them._

_There's a man here who can do that. He knows what's going to happen. He's a little strange because of it and sometimes I can't understand what he's talking about. It's okay though, because he says some really interesting things. His name is Simon and I met him last Saturday. I think you would like him, he's a lot of fun._

_We took out the Marauder's Map and explored some of the secret passageways last week. George wants to find all the ones that he and Fred lost, and put them on the map to make it more detailed. We get lost a lot. That's fun as well. They found one that leads from the infirmary to the headmaster's office when I was in Astronomy. Apparently Dumbledore has a pet phoenix! I would love to see that._

_Seamus got Fred to charm the poster you sent, so the players' robes are all different colours and they keep falling off their brooms. He finds it funny, but they don't seem to. I'm glad photographs can't speak._

_From Harry_

-x-

_Dear Harry,_

_Your mother isn't happy about you talking to the Seer, and I don't know if I am either. I can't stop you if that's what you want to do but I just don't know if it's a good idea. Anyway, you'll get all of this from Lily so I won't give you a lecture. I'll try to stop her sending a Howler. She's not mad at you, she's just very worried, and she gets a bit silly when she's like that._

_There are a few passageways going into the headmaster's office. I would have thought that Fred and George would be more interested in getting into Filch's? He has all the interesting stuff. Is that really all you've been getting up to? Sirius is laughing far too much these days for it to just be about the map._

_Could you do me a favour? Go over to Seamus' poster and do the wand movement for _Wingardium Leviosa _and say the words _Oriorum Cando_, with a long 'or' sound and a rounded 'do' sound at the end. Don't be surprised by what happens. And don't tell Seamus either! He'll work it out eventually and I'll be looking forward to his letter when he does._

_That's a spell that I came up with at school. It's not a very good one, but maybe I just never used it in the right way. I don't think it would really do much beyond what you'll see with the poster. If you'd like to try it go right ahead – let me know if it actually works on anything._

_Dad_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_Dear Remus,_

_I'm sorry that this is going to be a short letter. Ron distracted me with Exploding Snap and it was bedtime before I even realised it. The light's about to go out, so if I stop midway I'm sorry. I'll send you a better letter next time._

_Professor Quirrell puts garlic into his turban to ward off vampires. Does that actually work? I think it just makes him smell awful. Why would vampires not like garlic? Or is it just that he smells so strongly of it that they don't want to go near him? I don't have much of a choice. Hermione always wants to sit at the front in his classes, since no one else does and she thinks we should 'be a good example'. I don't dislike Professor Quirrell but I would like it if he smelled better._

_From Harry_

-x-

_Dear Harry_

_I don't think you'll be surprised to hear that Lily and James have spoken to me. That may be why you didn't mention it in your letter. Harry, your mother is going to tell you that bad people can seem good but aren't or some nonsense like that. Well, it's not complete nonsense. That can be the case – look at Peter. But it isn't always, and the opposite is just as true._

_This sounds complicated but I'll explain it to you as best I can. A person can seem good and be bad, and seem bad and be good. You can't work out which one they are by what they look like or say. You have to look at their actions. Peter seemed like a good friend, but he betrayed us and showed that he wasn't._

_Lily thinks that Simon is a bad person who is pretending to be good. James isn't sure but he doesn't want to risk it. At the moment he's too busy trying to stop your mother from charging over to Hogwarts to think about it too much himself. Sirius says that he's not worried, but he doesn't appear to think much of him either. I think that none of us will know what kind of person he is until we meet him._

_You wrote that you hadn't seen him since. Have you now? If you have, and he looks like he'll be hanging around, maybe you should consider bringing him over to meet us all sometime._

_For now, just do your best at classes and whatever it is that has James and Siri preoccupied. James keeps trying to take his letters before he can get them but he's not fast enough, and then he chases Sirius round the house trying to take them off him. It's funny. Wish you were here to see it. We'll all see you soon enough. It's Halloween in a couple of weeks, and Lily's talking to Dumbledore about doing a fire-call in his office._

_To answer your question, vampires _are _repelled by garlic. It's only a certain type which actually doesn't smell that badly. Your professor must have his turban filled with it for it to be noticeable. Unless he's gotten the kind wrong, in which case I don't think he'll appreciate you pointing it out to him. I doubt that vampires are going to lay siege to Hogwarts, so it's probably best to leave it._

_Remus_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_Dear Sirius,_

_We can't get the banner spells working properly just yet. The letters go all wonky. While we've been working on them, Fred used _Incogitio _on Severus' book in the middle of class. He was in charge of their detention for the illusion trick and the twins weren't happy about it. I wasn't there but apparently he couldn't remember what an ingredient was used for and one of the third years had to tell him. They thought that was brilliant and that I should write you about it._

_We found a way into the infirmary and got some of the ingredients for a Polyjuice Potion. It was that or Veritaserum, and George thought that would be harder. It will be a long time before we can see if it worked, but we've got plenty of things to do if it doesn't. _

_I miss you,_

_From Harry_

-x-

_Harry,_

_I miss you too. Before you know it it'll be Christmas and you'll be back home again. Then it'll be school that you miss. Have as much fun as you are able, Harry. And remember that you can do that anywhere, and with anyone._

_Polyjuice! You're quite ambitious, you three. I expect photos._

_Sirius_


	13. Welcoming a Snake

"This is...this isn't...I don't know."

Wind rushed around outside, fighting some invisible enemy. Leaves rose up into the air and fell back down again. A tree's branch made a menacing sound, as though it were about to break off and join the battle. Roses flung themselves at the kitchen window, their petals falling away and bruising. The roses didn't seem to notice what the effort was costing them, and a branch cried out as it fell from its tree.

James sat at the table with a letter in one hand and the other on his forehead. His hair was messy. He'd been running his fingers through it even before they got their mail. Lily wanted to smooth it and take his hand and kiss his forehead and tell him not to worry.

But he would do it anyway. If he didn't get it out now, it would build up inside of him. James was not the kind of person to become stressed but when he did it was like a poison, something you could only see in its effects as it slowly killed him. Lily wouldn't ask him to ignore his feelings, or tell him not to have them. James was much too honest for that to be an option. She loved that about him.

James flung the letter on the table and pulled off his glasses, rubbing furiously at his nose and around his eye. Lily thought his hands might be shaking. "I don't know what to do about this, Lily. I mean," his eyes ran over the letter and he exhaled through his nose. "What _is _this, even?"

"It's a letter from Harry," she told him calmly. She was standing slightly away from the table, her own letter in her hand.

"What it _says_..." James looked pained.

Lily went over to him and put her free hand on his shoulder. He was calming down again and she could help him with that. Her thumb made small circles in a gesture of comfort. "What does it say?" she asked.

"This!" James picked up the letter and tried to read without his glasses, then frowned and put them on again. "This. About that Simon bloke. '_He showed me some real-life Ashwinders_...' Well, I'm not happy about that to start with. They're snakes! With Harry the way he is it's not good for him to be near them. If people found out..." He shook his head and searched through the letter.

"'_Simon has been talking to me about Draco. He doesn't think that people could be that bad. It probably helps that they have the same broom model.'_" James read further in silence. "Oh, a Comet 260? That's not bad. I was thinking about getting one of those, actually. You know, for when the Weasleys come around. George is far too quick for a Bluebottle..." He realised he'd become distracted and coughed. "Right, well... Here. This part."

"'_I only ever get to see him outside the castle, or in the Owlery that one time. He doesn't like being around people. I wanted to take some of my friends to meet him but he always says no.' _There! Isn't that suspicious? He's not a teacher, what is he doing at Hogwarts? I need to write to the twins and get them to check the map..."

"James," Lily said.

He looked up at her. He was probably only now realising that Lily wasn't worrying along with him. "Yes?"

"I think we should meet him."

"You do?"

"Yes."

James took her hand from his shoulder and held it in his own. "Why is that?" he asked. He would listen to whatever she had to say. He might not agree or go along with it, but he would always listen. And Lily would do the same for him.

"If the man is a Seer, we can hardly keep Harry away from him. With his gifts he could act as Harry's protector at Hogwarts, a powerful friend, since we can't be there. Not even Dumbledore knows the future." Lily thought for a moment, and then smiled. "...that he's told anyone, anyway. Harry has been writing to us about Simon for months. Either he's incredibly patient or he's not a threat. The only way we can know is by meeting him."

James considered that. "I...yes, that makes sense. If he rides a Comet 260 he can't be _too_ bad. And if it turns out that he's a good guy and I beat him at Quidditch I'll feel a whole lot better about this."

Lily laughed and kissed his head. "Well, we can invite him here for a day in the Christmas break. I'm sure it won't be a problem for him-"

"Wait, what?" James said incredulously. "Here?"

"Where else?"

"I don't know, but couldn't we-"

"He doesn't like people, James," Lily interrupted him. "And we have to consider Harry. This is the longest he's been away from home, even if he was having a wonderful time catching the Snitch for Gryffindor and getting on Severus' bad side. Not to mention the papers haven't seen as much of him since he went to school, they're probably going to be following owls on brooms to work out where he is..."

"Alright. Yes, I get it." James sighed and kissed her hand. "I should go and tell Sirius. We need to be prepared." He stood up and gave her a wink as he went out of the room. She smiled at him, not bothering to mention that Sirius was at the Ministry today, trying as he had for months to register as an Animagus. It gave her a chance to look at the letter he'd left on the table.

There was Harry's writing, and nothing else. None of that small, precise script that had been appearing in her letters for weeks. Nothing from Simon for James.

Why was he only writing to her? It was mostly trivial things, telling her what he planned on showing Harry the following week when they went out to the Forbidden Forest or commenting on the weather or asking permission to teach Harry a new spell. Every now and then he would write something about his father or the place that he came from. Simon never joked in the letters. He always wrote seriously. And after a while Lily couldn't help but take him seriously.

She hadn't told James about it, because she thought there must be a reason why Simon hadn't written to him yet. She made a point of checking all of James' letters, expecting every time to see Simon's handwriting at the bottom of the page. Every time it wasn't there. It was bizarre. But really, there was nothing that wasn't bizarre about this situation.

A branch bashed into one of the windows and Lily jumped. The weather was awful today. It was just as well she'd put protection spells on her flowers, although some of the roses looked like they'd outgrown them. James would have to hope the weather would clear up, if he wanted to play Quidditch with Simon. In a matter of weeks her son would be coming home, and she could assure herself the way Simon's messages had assured her that Harry was fine and safe and older than he'd been when he left.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Sirius clapped when Harry turned the water in a vase purple. "Fantastic! Did you see that, Remus? That's the sort of thing they should have been teaching us in first year!"

"Oh, yes. I'd much rather be turning things different colours than casting _Lumos_," Remus said, but smiled at Harry who was enjoying his godfather's enthusiastic praise. He'd been grinning since the moment he'd gotten off the train.

"Pssh. Just stick a candle in your sock. Your father used to do that, Harry, did we ever tell you?"

"I still do," James said as he walked by them, leaning over to give Harry a quick hug. "Very useful, when the lights go out and you can't find your wand."

"What do you do for fire?" Harry asked him, obviously trying not to laugh.

James stopped to think about that. "Oh," he said finally, looking so comical that he sent the others laughing. He was always doing that. He had a talent for making anything sound hilarious, though he had a good sense of humour too so he didn't often have to use it.

That was part of the reason the teachers had loved him back at school. He was likable, charismatic. Sirius had always been the slightest bit jealous of him. He had to work at being popular. James could do it as easily and thoughtlessly as he could joke about sticking candles in his shoes.

Sirius put his glass down on the table. He was drinking wine, but it was more for show than anything else. A single glass could last him hours. In truth, he didn't enjoy drinking and only really did it as a tribute to his parents. They'd done a lot of things wrong by him, but he tried to remember the few things they'd managed to do right. It was in those brief moments of sentimentality that he poured himself a glass of red wine and nursed it for far longer than he should.

"James! Did you see what Harry just did? He's learned more in a few months than I think we learned our first two years. I couldn't cast a Colour Change Charm until I was a fourth year. Although once I found it I certainly made up for lost time," Sirius winked at Harry. "Go on. Do it again, so that your dad can see it."

"I will," Harry said, but didn't move. He just looked back at Sirius with a glimmer in his eye until Sirius began to chuckle.

"Takes after you," he said to James.

"You'd be surprised," James replied, looking down at Harry fondly. Sirius saw Harry's hands lift and then fall, and wondered if anyone else had noticed. He'd expected his father to mess up his hair. Well, old habits...

"So, when is this friend of Harry's meant to be arriving?" Remus put down the newspaper he'd been shifting about and leaned forward. He was sitting on the couch, which was slightly more raised than Sirius and Harry's armchairs. It was puffier too, but firm rather than soft. Sirius didn't like it and he'd be willing to bet that Remus didn't really either.

Sirius lifted his glass to drink as James answered. "Around twelve, so any moment now..." He began to laugh and Sirius wondered what he'd missed. Remus joined him, clapping Sirius on the shoulder, while Harry just looked smug.

He took the glass away from his mouth and saw that the wine in it was no longer red but transparent, with wisps of green trailing through it. It looked like squash that hadn't been mixed properly. Sirius hated squash. He set the glass down somewhat distastefully. "Harry," he said levelly.

"Yes, Sirius?" Merlin, he looked pleased with himself. Just like James at his age, or Sirius himself.

"I," a pause for dramatic effect, "want you to teach me how you did that."

Harry grinned. "George managed to adjust it so that the change is delayed. The odd colouring is just a side effect that we haven't worked out yet. I was actually trying to turn it orange, but I think I like that one better."

"I don't," Sirius frowned at it. "It looks rather Slytherin, doesn't it?"

That surprised Harry, although Sirius didn't know why it would. Green was a common enough colour. It was just an unfortunate one that he tried to avoid.

Suddenly there was a gentle ringing noise all around them. That meant that there was someone on the property that the wards didn't recognise. That they were so quiet said a good deal. If the visitor had negative intentions, or a poor reason for being here, the ringing would have been louder. If the visitor was curious it would have sounded more like a clanging. It didn't seem that Harry's Seer was here on behalf of any newspaper. If he was, he was bad at his job.

Lily flew down the stairs, her red hair lifting out around her. She was already wearing her jacket and had clearly made an effort with her appearance. Well, of course. Whether the man was an enemy or a friend, she would want to present herself well.

"Okay. We go out together. Come on, get up Sirius," Lily said.

Harry had run for the door, but stopped. "Oh, I should..." He came back to the table and touched his wand to Sirius' glass, and the red flooded back into it. He picked it up and handed it to him. "Here. He'll like how that looks." Then he ran for the door again.

Sirius hadn't heard much about the Seer, only really knowing that Lily and James couldn't decide if they hated the man or not. Harry had mentioned him a few times since he'd come home, saying that he liked snow peas and that he preferred Muggle photographs to moving wizard ones. Sirius had imagined an Arthur Weasley kind of man, charming in a clumsy kind of way. And now Harry was telling him that he'd appreciate the look of a glass of wine?

When he walked outside and actually saw him, he realised that he'd gotten it wrong.

This man was young. Sirius guessed he was five, ten years younger than him. He stood at the edge of the property in a show of respect. His posture was near perfect, and his arms hung slightly awkwardly at his sides with his hands tucked behind his back, as though he wanted to stand formally and couldn't quite make himself be casual.

Sirius moved his glass slightly, so that the wine in it spun around. The man was a pureblood, and from a good family. His hair and skin were nearly as pale as the snow lying around them. That meant that he was wealthy, and well-bred. His clothes...well, they didn't matter. Sirius couldn't make himself concentrate on his clothes, although he knew and could see that they were there. His hairstyle wasn't as fashionable as it could have been, but it was instead attractive and softened the man's features. He was a pureblood and an heir, granted the freedom to choose the way he wore his hair. He didn't look quite haunted enough to be independent.

He didn't look deserving of all of James and Lily's worry, either. He was slender enough that Sirius thought that if he tried he could break him into two. As it was he was older and a pureblood heir himself. There were plenty of other ways that he could get to him before it came to anything physical.

He took a sip of his wine and resisted the urge to smile until he knew that Lily wouldn't kill him for it.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

He wasn't what Lily had been expecting. He was worse. A lot worse. But she could control herself. She had to. James, Remus, Sirius...none of them had reacted. None of them had worked it out. But Lily knew. She knew who he was, and it was taking all of her efforts to stop herself from throwing herself at him.

This was Simon? How could it be? She began to recall the letters and what he had said in them, about his family and his home and the future...all of it suddenly made sense to her. Harry said that he didn't understand him sometimes, that he was vague...that he _didn't like people_, that he'd been to Hogwarts, that he'd met them before...Simon had even said as much. He'd written that he knew them. And also that they wouldn't recognise him for who he was.

Lily wished she hadn't. She didn't want to have to forbid Harry from having a friendship with someone but she would have to do it now.

What was he doing _here?_ Shouldn't he have been off in a mansion somewhere, sitting in front of one of those cold fires and pretending to care for some poor girl he trapped in marriage? Where was all of it, the expensive robes and the haughtiness and the family procession? She couldn't believe that he would have discarded them all to keep her son company when he went to school. Harry. He'd been near Harry all of this time. She wanted to tell the wards to turn on him for that.

_The wards... _Lily put her anger aside for a moment. There was something she was missing here. _He didn't trigger the wards. They're broken...no. They couldn't be. He didn't – doesn't – mean us harm. He didn't come to take a look around the house. Then what is he here for? He couldn't..._

She saw him look over at Harry and smile. Her heart stopped.

_He couldn't really be Harry's friend._

"Lily," James said quietly, touching her arm. His fingers brushed against her skin. They were cold and she shivered. "Are we going to greet him?"

"Dad, can I...?"

"Yes, Harry. Just remember to be formal when we are, alright?" He stepped closer to Lily. The rest of him was warm. He was wearing so many layers it wouldn't have made sense if he wasn't, she supposed. His voice was soft, concerned. "Are you alright, Lils?"

She met his eyes. He was so honest. She could believe anything that he did and everything that he said. He made mistakes but she could never question his intentions. He could do awful things if he thought that they were right. He was a good person. She knew that. Anyone who met him had to know that.

There was the crunching of snow, and she realised that Harry had run over to Simon. They were laughing. She didn't think that one of...that he could laugh. It was nice. It sounded real. "I'm fine, James," she said, curling a hand into the side of his jacket. "I think we should say hello, now. I'm sorry. It's the cold. I didn't...I didn't expect it."

"Alright." He rubbed her shoulder, careful not to make her shiver again. "Harry!"

Simon was kneeling on the muddied ground, talking with Harry. He was more animated than she had ever seen him – though she really hadn't seen much of him. He pushed his hair behind his ear, and a strand fell back into his face. It was so human and imperfect.

He'd written about such unimportant things. He had asked her if the weather was different at Godric's Hollow than it was at Hogwarts. He'd told her he wasn't sure if his favourite colour was green or blue, and if he should even be worried about it because they were practically the same thing. He'd written about how he thought he might have Veela blood and wasn't sure if that affected people several generations down the line. He'd presented her with reasons why Quidditch was overrated, even as he wrote about how wonderful Harry was at it.

Some part of Lily had liked him, and liked him now.

Harry came back over to them and Simon followed, standing the appropriate distance away from them. He inclined his head and James returned the gesture. "Welcome to our home," Lily said, not bothering to bow or curtsy or any of that nonsense. There were more important things to worry about than playing the pureblood game.

"Thank you for your hospitality," Simon replied. His eyes were smiling, though his face was blank. God, if she hadn't seen it before she would have seen it now. Although none of the others were showing any sign of recognition.

"Simon, was it?"

"Yes, Mrs Potter."

"Do you have a last name to go with that?" she asked, quite aware that James was trying to signal her with his eyes. People thought she didn't notice that, when in truth she mostly just chose to ignore it.

Simon looked to Harry, who answered for him. "Ashwinder."

He smiled and nodded. "Simon Ashwinder."

"Would you tell me what your name is where you come from?"

"I don't think you'd like it, Mrs Potter."

That was certainly true, if he was who she suspected. "If I asked you to anyway?"

The smile was gone from Simon's eyes now. He studied her, his head tilting slightly. Then his eyes swept over the people with them before coming back to hold hers. "I think you know it already," he said, his voice low.

"Lily?" James still hadn't worked out who it was. She would have to tell him later. She wasn't looking forward to that.

"Yes, well. Simon Ashwinder will do for now. That's a good name, Harry," Lily smiled at her son. "How about we go inside? I think there are some things we all should talk about." She looked at Simon pointedly, who just smiled at her and followed Remus into the house.

She sighed to herself. Things were always harder when a Malfoy was involved.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Notes - **Hopefully that helped you guess his identity! Plenty of hints in this chapter and I was going to do the big reveal, but that will happen in the next chapter instead. If you're still stuck, then I'll tell you that none of the characters have ever lied or gotten it wrong about Simon, except Harry. Simon didn't lie either, but he did try to mislead Harry and give him answers that could be interpreted different ways. A few people have gotten it right but a few people haven't. Who do you think he could be? :)


	14. Telling the Truth

**Notes - **It's a longer chapter today. If I could I would have made it twice as long, but I didn't want to overwhelm you with information. Any questions you still have after this will have to be answered later on.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

James might have felt differently about Simon, if Lily hadn't been radiating animosity toward him the moment he came through their door. She'd apparently seen something in him that James had missed. To him Simon seemed likable enough. Very strange, but likable.

He had expected him to be like Peter – small, weak, uncertain of himself but not of his goals. Simon was as far from that as he could be. He was a tall, confident and undoubtedly skilled young man. The first thing he'd done when he came into the house was fix one of Sirius' trinkets. Sirius had been staring at the thing for years, and in came Simon who picked it up and moved some of the bars around showed Sirius how to use it. It was a clock, apparently. An incredibly old one. Sirius had found it in the Black family vault so that wasn't really a surprise.

And now it was sitting over on the mantle, spinning away. A clock that didn't look anything like a clock. When they asked Simon how he'd known how to fix it, Lily had gone uncommonly pale and Sirius had swirled his wine around like he already knew the answer.

And what had he said?

'_I have one of those at home.'_

James might have felt differently about Simon, if he didn't look like he was trying not to laugh every time they asked him a question. It was as though he knew something they didn't. That bothered James, who had already realised that he wasn't a Seer.

A Seer wouldn't know his way around a house the first time he set foot in it. A Seer wouldn't know as much about the future as Harry's letters said he did. A Seer had visions, throwing-your-head-back-and-speaking-in-a-suitably-creepy-voice _visions_, they didn't just _know_. And even if he was one, there wasn't any reason for him to be so vague when it came to himself. Simon should have been able to tell them where he lived and what his job was and how he had so much time to be following Harry around.

James thought that he was lying. He liked Simon, but he didn't trust him.

At present they were all sitting around the fire which kept them pleasantly warm. They'd closed all the windows and covered most of them, since the weather had gotten fierce. A few of the lamps that were scattered around had been turned on. The dim lighting should have been menacing but James found it comfortable. It reminded him of New Year's with Harry, when they'd stayed up late and played card games until midnight, drinking the hot chocolate that Lily had made for them. James was useless at it; his always tasted watery or far too sweet. He had done everything with magic before he'd met her. She'd shown him that some things were better without it.

The fire, for example. There was magic on it to keep it from spreading, but it had been lit manually and had to be fed constantly to keep it burning. It was louder than a magical fire would have been, and the flames were more erratic, licking at the walls of the fireplace one minute and clinging to the wood the next. James thought that it was warmer, brighter. It gave him a certain kind of satisfaction to put more wood into it and see it grow. Lily had found magical fires too complacent. She said that a fire was meant to be wild and that they shouldn't want it to be anything other than what it was.

It concerned him sometimes that she never applied that logic to people.

"Is it working for you, Sirius?" Remus asked. He was sitting close to the fire and prodding it every now and then, making sure that it didn't go out and leave them freezing.

Sirius frowned. He'd been trying to get Harry's spell to work on a glass of water, reasoning that it would be easy to change the colour of something that didn't have colour to begin with. He didn't appear to be getting anywhere. "No. It isn't..._ Corclario_," he tried. No change.

"Maybe you should ask Harry about it," James suggested. He was sitting next to Lily. They were on different chairs but she'd leaned over to him and he'd been tracing patterns on her arm until he was sure she was about to fall asleep. It was his way of saying that she could, if she wanted. He'd keep an eye on Simon and take care of them while she did.

"I'm sure I can do it." Sirius shook his head and pointed his wand at the glass, not seeing James and Remus exchange a look.

Harry and Simon were sitting on the floor in the middle of them. They'd started out on chairs, but Harry had found a book he was interested in and couldn't read it unless he was closer to the fire. Simon went down to talk to him shortly after, and now they were sitting and discussing something Harry had read. They had a short table that they'd covered with open books, Harry's attention wandering as Simon answered all his questions. James wouldn't have been surprised if it turned out it was he who was responsible for much of what Harry had learned while he was at school. He hadn't been taught altogether much when he'd been in first year.

"So my Invisibility Cloak is made from the hair of a demiguise?" Harry was asking.

"Actually, it isn't," Simon told him, glancing at James. "It's made of something else. It's special, and you should take good care of it."

"What is it made from, then?"

"We don't know," James said. "Most invisibility cloaks don't work as well as time passes. After a while they don't work at all. Your cloak has been in the Potter family for generations and it's still as good as if it were new. It's something of a mystery."

Harry considered that. "I'll have to ask Hermione, then. She's good with this stuff."

"Maybe you could send her an owl?" Lily said, startling James slightly as he'd thought she was only half-awake. Of course she'd suggest Harry writing to the girl. She liked Hermione without even having met her – she probably reminded her of herself.

"Could I?" Harry brightened. He'd only been at home a few days and already appeared to be missing his friends.

"We'd have to use a postal service, but yes, that would be fine."

"Brilliant!" Harry grinned. "Do you have anyone you want to write to, Simon?"

Simon hesitated before he answered, something that James didn't miss. He was always quick with his replies, as if he'd had years to think about them. It had made his Seer story that little bit more plausible. "No. My family don't expect to hear from me just yet."

Lily stiffened. James looked between them. What exactly was he missing here?

"It doesn't matter if they _expect_ you to or not. They probably want to know how you're doing-"

"Harry," Lily said warningly. "Not all families are the same. If Simon doesn't want to write to his parents...then that's his choice."

Something flickered in Simon's eyes. He was angry. What had Lily said to make him angry? It was true she wasn't being entirely polite to him, but he could hardly expect her to be when she was a mother concerned for her child. Besides, he'd dealt with it in the hours that he'd been here. James had thought the man was unendingly patient.

"Thank you, Mrs Potter," he said, a sharp edge to his words. Apparently not.

"_Corclario!_" Sirius sighed. "Harry, could you help me with this..."

"Oh! Yes." Harry scrambled to his feet, bumping the table as he did. Several of the books began to slide off of it but Simon got them before they could. Harry smiled gratefully at him and went over to Sirius.

"Alright, so I'm doing it like this." Sirius proceeded to show him the wand movements.

"No one you _want_ to write to, hmm?" Lily said quietly.

"There's no one I _can_ write to. You know that well enough." Simon scowled. It looked familiar, somehow.

"No, you need to be lifting it more there...like this, see?" Harry took out his wand to demonstrate.

James found himself caught in the middle of two conversations, neither of which he was really able to understand. Over there his son was teaching Sirius how to do a spell while Remus watched them. Over here his wife was arguing quietly with Simon about things that didn't make much sense.

"Right, so...like this?"

"Yes, that's right. Show me it again."

"I'd be surprised if it turned out you had anyone you wanted to write to where you come from, anyway."

"I do. I usually don't have to, since they're all so close to me."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Sirius, it's like you're casting...well, do you know _Confugeo_?"

"I didn't know you knew that one!"

"Really, what did you mean by that?"

"I mean that I have a family. I have friends. Somehow I don't think you're going to believe me."

"Well, Fred and George teach me some interesting things."

"They would, those two."

"Why don't you explain it to me, then? I'd love to know what you're doing here."

"I'm here, because –"

"It's sort of like that. Just do the last bit differently, with the upwards movement."

"You're here, because? Because what?"

"I think I've got it!"

"Try it, then."

"Because I'm meant to be here," Simon said seriously. "Lily, you're going to have to listen to me. Although I would have thought out of all of you, you'd be the one least stubborn."

"_Corclario_," Sirius cast. "Wait – how long until it works, now?"

Harry laughed. "You're meant to think about that when you're casting the spell. Just wait a bit and we'll see if anything happened."

"Lily," Simon pleaded. That was the second time James had heard him use her first name. Whatever they were talking about, it had to have been serious.

"Yes!" Lily said angrily. Then she went on, more evenly. "Yes, alright. I'll listen to you. But remember that you're at my home, and if it were up to me I wouldn't have you anywhere near it. I'm only putting up with this for Harry. Remember that, please. And also that my husband has heard this conversation, and he won't let anything happen to me. You'd be best not to try it."

Simon, amazingly, looked hurt. With awful timing the people across from them began to cheer.

"Look at this, James! Look! Isn't that incredible!" Sirius showed him the glass. The water was laced with colour, gold at the base and red at the top. "That's beautiful. Gryffindor, look at that. I was trying to turn it blue and everything."

"I've never seen it manage two colours at once before," Harry said excitedly. "Fred thinks it turns your favourite colour, but George says it's more likely that it turns the colour that suits you best."

"Oh, do you like green then, Harry?" Sirius asked. Harry's smile disappeared and he went faintly pale. "Don't worry about it, really. I don't like the colour myself but it's not so bad. The colour of grass, after all..."

"The colour of Muggle money..." Remus offered.

"That's right. Do you remember that holiday when we had to use Muggle money and we couldn't work out how many Galleons were in a dollar? Green's a perfectly fine colour," Sirius said. "Although red and gold...they're very perfectly fine. I'm quite happy with that."

"Maybe I should try it. See what colour I get," Remus mused.

"You should. Harry, will it work again on the same glass?"

Harry shrugged. "I suppose. We haven't really tested it yet. It still needs a bit of work."

"Then we can help you by trying it." Sirius put the glass in front of Remus. "Go on, Moony. I bet it turns purple..."

"Why would it turn purple?" James asked.

"Why, what do you think it'll be?"

As they were talking Lily stood up. "I'm going out to check on the garden. Simon's coming with me," she said. James nodded and she kissed his cheek. She left the room and Simon followed her.

James moved over to sit with the others, putting an arm around Harry's shoulder and telling him all of the reasons why Remus would certainly _not _turn the water purple. His friends caught on quickly and Sirius went back to encouraging them to try the spell. Remus looked concerned, but didn't say anything. As Harry showed them the wand movements again James tried his hardest not to worry.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Lily wrapped her scarf around her neck and tucked it into her collar. It was colourfully patterned and not the kind of thing she would have chosen for herself. Harry had picked it out for her when they'd been shopping once in London. Now she wouldn't wear anything else.

Simon eyed it, and she frowned at him. "I forgot you had that. I like it. It's nostalgic," he explained, and she frowned harder. She didn't want to think about how he knew her well enough to tell one of her scarves from another.

"We're going outside. Don't you want to put on anything warmer?" she asked.

Simon blinked. "You can see what I'm wearing?"

"Of course I can. I assume those robes are fashionable where you come from?"

What he was wearing wasn't unattractive, just different. His robes were cut from black material that was thinner than James normally wore. They didn't hide what he was wearing at all, opening up at his shoulders to show a black suit shirt. The sleeves were long, ending just before the shirt's cuffs. There was embroidery at his chest, in a dark thread that blended into the material, with buttons making up part of the intricate pattern and holding the robes together. They cut off at his mid-thigh and tapered out, showing his trousers which were again black.

They looked expensive and Lily didn't doubt that they were. Wearing all black made his skin glow and the colour of his hair more striking. _You can always count on the Malfoys to take pride in their appearance, _she thought wryly. _Even if it means they catch a cold for vanity. Maybe I should get him to wear my scarf, though he'd probably try to wear that just as well._

"Sorry. Most people can't see them. I think it's so that I don't stand out. They're quite normal where I come from, but they must look strange here," Simon said. "And I'm quite warm, don't worry. I don't feel much difference in temperature, which is just as well with what it looks like outside."

"I wasn't worried," Lily said quickly. "Come on."

Simon held the door open for her and closed it carefully behind them. It was cold outside and there was snow all about them, but the weather had calmed down and there wasn't much of a breeze. The sky was overcast. In a couple of hours it might rain. Lily was tempted to ask Simon if it would, just to see him falter. He was as much a Seer as she was a mermaid.

"I wasn't kidding. We're really going to check on the garden. Are you sure you're not feeling cold at all?" Her breath steamed in the cold air, and she put her hands in her pockets to warm them. She couldn't be wearing gloves when she looked at some of her plants.

"I know." Simon smiled. "I'm fine, really."

Lily studied him for a moment and then marched over to her begonias. They were at one corner of the house, near the shed that her husband was constantly climbing on. "Alright, then. Talk. Why are you here?" She looked over her flowers, noting that snow was beginning to creep in. Some of the barrier spells needed to be cast again.

"I believe you invited me here," Simon said easily.

"_How _are you here?"

"I Apparated."

Lily glared at him and he smiled back at her. She took her wand from her pocket and cast a shielding spell on the begonias that would protect them for the few minutes that the barrier spells were down. "You might as well answer my questions."

"Might I." Simon wasn't paying her much attention, looking around the house with that irritating smile on his face.

She put a hand on her hip. "I could use Veritaserum on you."

"Harry really does take after you, doesn't he?"

"I could," she persisted.

"You won't," Simon said. "You hate it. You think it takes away a person's freedom, and that everyone should be able to choose whether or not to be honest. You've been prevented from doing so much, with the prophecy and Voldemort, that you couldn't take something away from someone else. You know too well what that feels like."

Lily stared at him. "That's...true."

"It would be." And then he was smiling again. "You told me so yourself."

Incapable of doing much else, Lily turned back to her begonias. She replaced the barrier spells and removed the shielding spell, satisfied with her work. Then she walked past the shed to check on the next plant. "If you're not going to tell me anything, there's not much point in you being here," she pointed out.

"Lily, I'm going to tell you _everything_." Simon's voice was so serious that she stopped where she was and looked back to him. "And you're not going to like half of it."

A minute passed in silence, with them holding each other's gaze in a strange sort of battle.

Lily glanced away first, at the pansies she'd been about to tend to and back to Simon. She gave him a small smile. "Well. I suppose we should introduce ourselves properly, then."

Simon grinned at her. "I suppose we should," he agreed. He stepped forward and reached out one hand to her. She took it. It was surprisingly warm.

"Lily Potter."

"Draco Malfoy."

They shook, and her own hand went back into her pocket before her fingers got cold again. "I'm glad you got rid of that horrid gel," she told him.

"Oh?" Simon pulled a strand of hair in front of his face, as if he'd forgotten what it looked like. "Yes, I stopped using it in second year. Harry didn't like it. He's the one that got me to grow it long, as well. I don't think I mind either way really."

"Hmm. Are you going to answer my questions, now?"

"It depends on what they are," Simon said, and then laughed at Lily's exasperated expression. "I will, really, just ask them."

"Where do you come from?"

"I live in Hogsmeade, and have done for about two years. I lived here for a while, actually." He gestured at the house.

Lily desperately wanted to know how he could have managed _that_, but there were more important questions to ask. "What year did you come from?"

"2002."

"Is Voldemort defeated?"

"Yes."

Lily felt more relieved to hear that single word than she thought she'd ever been in her life. In a matter of years, Voldemort would be gone. The man who had terrorised her family and made it so hard for her son to live a normal life, would be gone. She closed her eyes for a moment and opened them to find Simon watching her with concern. "You mentioned Harry. He's okay?"

"Yes. He is."

Something about the way Simon said that set off warning bells in Lily's head. She decided to ignore them for now. "How did you come back?"

"Harry works for the Ministry. They recovered an artefact in one of their raids, but no one could work out what it was for. By then we'd worked out that it was me. You know, I looked like Simon, not to mention he'd actually told you who he was. We started to prepare. I spoke to all of you about when we'd met and what we'd done, trying to get all the facts straight so that I could come back and do what I was supposed to. I went into a Pensieve for longer than I think any person should." He smiled at her. "You wouldn't let me see your memories. That's why I really have no clue what I'm meant to say. It's rather intimidating."

Lily took a moment to think about that and nodded. It fit what she'd already worked out. "Do you know why you came back?"

"No. All I can think is that I must have changed small things to make the future the way it was," Simon said. "Harry thinks I came back for the reason I – Simon – told him. To be his friend. His years at Hogwarts weren't the easiest."

More warning bells. "And you're friends in the future."

Simon hesitated only for a second but Lily didn't miss it. "Yes."

"Did you make it that way? Did you come back and push Harry and yourself together?"

"No!" Simon said quickly. "I didn't. I didn't have anything to do with it. It just...sort of...happened."

_If he's telling the truth, why does he look so guilty? He can hardly look me in the eye. There's something he's not saying. _"You can tell me the truth, Draco. You're enemies, aren't you."

And again, he managed to surprise her. Simon laughed. "That would have been a whole lot easier. But no, we're not. We, uhh, we're somewhat more than friends." He seemed to gather himself, looking her straight in the eye. "Harry and I are together."

Lily frowned, and then her eyes widened. "You're..."

"Yes." Simon ran his fingers through his hair. Harry did that. James did that. "Shit, this is harder than the first time..."

_Together?_

Well, it explained why he wasn't sitting comfortably in a mansion with the wife and the haughtiness and the riches, the way she'd thought he should be. It explained how he'd lived here at Godric's Hollow. It explained Hogsmeade – honestly, when was the last time a Malfoy had lived there? He had to be the first.

It explained how he knew them, and how he knew his way around. It hadn't escaped her notice that he walked around her house like he'd been there countless times before. It explained how he'd fixed the clock. It even explained why Harry liked him. Not to mention he was constantly writing home about Draco this and Draco that...when Lily had shown her disapproval he'd started writing about 'Malfoy' to her instead, although he kept on about 'Draco' in his letters to James.

It explained a lot of things.

But to her, Harry was an eleven-year-old boy who got into trouble every now and then and thought that flying was the most amazing thing a person could do. To her the Malfoys were the enemy. They'd sided with Voldemort, they were cold and ruthless, they were raising their son to be just like them. Draco fought with Harry at school, and with his friends. The nice ones. The Weasleys and that girl Hermione. It was hard to think of him as the same person who was standing in front of her now, trying to explain to her that he and _her son..._

"You love him?" she asked quietly.

"Quite a bit," Simon said, grinning like a fool. God, he looked like James. He looked like James did when he was talking about Lily, the way he'd always been smiling when they began to date, the way he still smiled when he saw her and had promised that he always would...

"Okay," she said.

"What?"

"Okay. I believe you. It's a bit of a shock, but..." Lily smiled weakly, and was surprised when Simon stepped forward and hugged her.

"Thank Merlin," he breathed. "That may well have been one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I mean, Harry's _young _here, he's...what, eleven? To make you think of him that way...I'm sorry. And I don't – I promise you, I really don't think of him strangely at all, you don't have to worry. My Harry's different, he's older and has this thing with his hair-"

Lily began to laugh. She'd never thought of a Malfoy as likable before, but once she'd resolved not to hate him she found that it wasn't that hard to do. It probably helped that Draco was falling over himself trying to explain things to her.

After a bit Simon started to laugh too, pulling away from her. His hair was mussed. He looked as much like a Malfoy and not like one as she thought a person could. "Well, this would be why you wouldn't show me your memory," he said. "We're friends in the future. I thought it was odd that you wouldn't let me see it when even James showed me his."

"You don't get along?"

"He didn't like me much at first. Trying to do the whole 'protective father' thing. He's much nicer to Simon, actually," he frowned.

"He's probably a little distracted by _Corclario_," Lily offered.

Simon grinned. "True. Hey, do you want to know the secret to that spell?"

"There is one?"

"Oh yes. Whatever liquid you cast it on will turn the colour you identify most with yourself. Sirius turned it red and gold, he sees himself as a Gryffindor. Remus...well, he's interesting. It's like that. If it turned black, you'd have a bit of a problem."

"Draco," Lily said suddenly.

"Yes?"

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

"I don't actually know," he admitted. "The you in my time heard all this from Simon the day they first met. It must change something, although I don't know what it could be. It did give you a few years to get used to the idea of your son ending up with a Malfoy, I suppose. It might just have made things easier on you. But Lily," Simon became serious suddenly. "You can't tell anyone what I've told you. Remus, James...Sirius, they can't know any of it. Because they don't remember knowing any of it. I didn't tell them, for whatever reason. Do you understand?"

"I understand." Some of it, at least. There was a lot of this that she was going to have to think over before she had any idea of what it meant, and even more that Lily didn't think she would believe until it happened.

"Good. Because there's a lot more that you have to know."

And Lily stood there as Simon told her the rest of 'everything' and kept standing there and listening even as it began to rain and she began to cry.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Notes - **Credit to purplestargirl and BeenBitten for getting it right, to RRW and bookworm19065 who came pretty close, to littlemechan who seemed to work out who it was, and especially to TheBlondeWeasley for pointing out that he was a little bit like Snape. I thought that was the best guess I heard, even if it was the wrong one. I also loved the theory that he was Harry and Draco's son. You guys are wonderful.

Two spells in this chapter, the first is _Corclario _which comes from the Portuguese 'cor' meaning 'colour' and 'claro' meaning 'clear'. When cast on a liquid it will turn the colour that the caster associates with himself, and the effects are delayed by however long the caster intends. The second is _Confugeo _which comes from the Latin words 'confundo' meaning 'confuse' and 'fuga' meaning 'flight'. I actually have no idea what it does. Anyone have any ideas? Maybe a spell that confuses birds in mid-air, or something? If you leave a review telling me a good possible use for it, I'll put it in the story.


	15. Formal Acceptance

The room was sparsely decorated and the red of the fire was the only real colour in it. Everything else was white or a pale grey, from the walls to the ceiling to the carpet. There were two armchairs in the middle of it, some distance from the fire and facing each other. A deep grey rug stretched beneath them. There were other pieces of furniture, all small and devastatingly expensive and arranged to make the room look larger.

It was comfortable, in its own sort of way. It reminded Narcissa sufficiently of the house of her childhood, but was different enough from any of the rooms in Black Manor that she could feel happy in it. The Blacks had been capable of awful things. So was Narcissa, but she felt she did them in an altogether more sophisticated way.

She sat in one of the chairs, which was slightly too firm and placed a pressure on her back that made her aware if her perfect posture began to falter. It was useful in helping her maintain it, as well as making any guests she might entertain more uncomfortable. Her son Draco had taken the seat across from her. He was used to the chairs and sat, as she did, without much thought.

A book lay open in his lap and one of his legs was bent oddly. That was forgivable. It showed her that he was paying due attention to what he was reading and that, while he had grown, he still wasn't tall enough for his feet to comfortably reach the floor. Narcissa smiled, knowing that Draco would not look up and see it. She felt a mother's gladness that her son would remain a boy for some years longer.

There was a faint chime in her left ear, alerting her to the fact that a letter had arrived for her. When she did not react to it a house-elf appeared, raising a tray to her on which an envelope sat. Mentally Narcissa frowned at it. She'd been expecting this letter from Lily since the day at Diagon Alley, but _really_. If she was going to send a Malfoy a letter of reconciliation she could at least go out and buy some finer-quality parchment.

Narcissa didn't need to ask what kind of bird had brought the letter. It was almost certainly a common owl, not even belonging to the Potters but instead to some postal agency. It was far too easy to find a bird's owner with a few Locating Spells and Lily had, after all, no idea if Narcissa was going to accept her truce.

She was, of course. She'd only started this foolish rivalry for a bit of fun, and to help endear Lucius to Voldemort when he returned. Narcissa had expected that their sons and heirs would become friends in time, playing into her plans very nicely and thinking that they were ending the rivalry by their own efforts. Draco had always risen to a challenge and Harry Potter as he had heard about him was a significant one.

Narcissa hadn't accounted for two things. The first was that she would see her own son, ten years older, standing in front of her at Diagon Alley. He'd grown up well. A handsome young man, composed and striking, and wealthy if his clothes had been any indication. Though Lucius hadn't managed to recognise his own child there was no way that Narcissa wouldn't have. He had Draco's face, Draco's eyes, Draco's taste in robes. She would have liked to speak with him but he had quickly vanished. That hadn't been a concern. Narcissa was sure she would meet him eventually, one way or another.

The second thing she hadn't anticipated was her son falling immediately in love with Harry. And really, could she be blamed for that? It was true that she had put thought into who Draco might be matched with – that was her duty, as a Malfoy and as a mother. Lucius had favoured the Parkinson girl, but they had agreed it was something to consider when Draco was older. For now they had to work on Draco's bent leg and curious impression that what he did with his hair made him look like an adult.

But then he had met Harry, and his eyes had done the same thing they did when he saw Muggle televisions. He looked in awe of him, surprised at himself and angry that he could feel that way. He looked as if he wanted to look away, but his curiosity stopped him. _'I don't like Harry Potter.' _If he didn't love him, Narcissa didn't know her son.

She took the letter and the house-elf disappeared. Draco glanced up from his book. "You've received a letter, Mother?" He was eyeing it with the same distaste Narcissa would if she didn't know Draco would copy everything she did without knowing why he should not.

"Yes. What are you reading about now?" She opened the envelope carefully and turned her attention to Draco. She would wait for him to answer her question before she unfolded the letter and began to read it.

"Animagi," he said simply. Draco clearly wanted her to read the letter and then tell him what it was about. Narcissa did not indulge him, and waited for him to continue with an interested expression. Finally he sighed and looked over the page he was reading. "It says here that not every wizard is capable of changing forms. Is it a powerful magic?"

"It is not only a powerful magic but a difficult one. Not every wizard is capable of it because it requires magical strength, discipline, and more patience and intelligence than I'm afraid most people have," she told him.

Draco laughed before asking another, more serious question. "Could I become one, do you think?"

Narcissa was silent for a moment, but the corners of her mouth curved up so that Draco would know that she didn't think it was impossible. He had the potential to become an Animagus, certainly. Narcissa had tried to become one herself, deciding to stop when she began a relationship with Lucius. It was dangerous and killed or disfigured many wizards and witches who had made the smallest of mistakes. She had committed to Lucius instead, and never regretted it.

It was a beautiful idea. Simply taking an animal's form and experiencing all of its benefits. The animal you became was apparently determined by your personality, and Narcissa had no doubt she would have been something incredible. If not beautiful then powerful, if not pleasant then fierce, if not subtle then unquestionably unique. What might her son become, if he could manage it? He took after both her and Lucius. Truthfully he was more like Lucius than he was Narcissa, but he was enough of both of them for the idea to be interesting.

She had already seen Draco as an adult, which meant that he survived until that age without significant wounds or disfigurement. Perhaps he had managed it. A better question would be why he would want to try it in the first place. Narcissa knew her own reasons well enough, it would be wise of her to ask Draco's.

"What would you wish to become?"

He pretended to think, but she saw that his cheeks were faintly red. He already knew what he wanted and thought it was something she would not like. "A dragon, maybe. Or a basilisk," he said.

"Draco, dear. That would be wonderful, but hardly useful. Could a dragon slip into a room unnoticed? Could a basilisk follow someone without them ever suspecting?" Narcissa chided. Not to mention Draco was as far from either of those things as a Muggle was from sense.

Draco blushed more deeply. "That's true, Mother."

"I will ask again. What would you wish to become?"

Draco looked at his feet, finally noticing and straightening his leg. "A snake."

"A snake?" It was so rarely that Narcissa was surprised that she had to stop herself from blinking like a fool. A snake. It suited Draco oddly well, and it was a practical enough form if he used it in the right way. She wondered absently if he would be poisonous.

"Yes," he said, managing to get his blush under control and look at her again. His eyes were filled with uncertainty. If it did not undermine the lessons they had been teaching him that week, Narcissa would have gotten up and hugged him.

"A snake in Slytherin," Narcissa mused. That had to be why he was interested in taking that particular form. It had the sort of irony to it that only a Malfoy would really appreciate. "Do let me know if you decide to try it, dear. It's not something that we could get a tutor for, but I would help in any way possible."

"Yes, Mother." Draco sat up straighter in his chair, his confidence regained with only a few words from her. He was such a wonderful boy. Narcissa was more proud of him than anything else she had had a part in.

Now she unfolded the letter, ignoring the way Draco leaned forward in his seat. Curiosity wasn't something to be embarrassed about and she wouldn't reprimand him for it. Showing it so obviously, however, was something he needed to be taught not to do. All things with time.

_Narcissa Malfoy,_

_I am writing this letter in order to extend to you a formal offer of friendship. It will undoubtedly benefit both your family and mine. I understand that you would want to discuss this with your husband and child before acting. I expect a timely reply but a reply nonetheless. Perhaps within the next week, before Draco and Harry go back to school? They might be able to begin a friendship while away from us. That is, if you can handle having a Potter so close to your heir._

_The owl has been instructed to carry your response back to me. Narcissa, we have had our differences, but I hope you will accept. It's better that some things happen now than later and more painfully. None of us know what will be different about the future, but we can have some idea if we work ourselves to change it._

_Earnestly,_

_Lily Potter_

"Is it amusing, Mother?" Draco asked.

"Yes, Draco. I will tell you all about it, once I've written my reply." Narcissa had to put one hand over her mouth to hide her smile. Lily had met her son, then. She had thought that would happen, and that what she would learn from him would lead her to try and unite their two families.

Draco must have some reason for coming back and her son's biggest concern at this age was the feud with the Potters. It made sense that he would go to Lily, who was responsible for it on their side, and that she would write to Narcissa, who was responsible for it on the Malfoys'. She could admit to some jealousy of Lily for talking with him before she herself had the chance to, but those feelings were easily put aside. Narcissa was a patient woman when she needed to be.

She snapped her fingers to summon the house-elf back. They were well-trained, having served in this house for generations, and it reappeared at her side with everything she would need to write a letter. Narcissa scrawled out her response. It would surprise Lily to receive it so quickly.

_Lily Potter,_

_How pleasantly unexpected. Might I dare to enquire after your health? Is that a gesture of politeness our new correspondence would allow? I will take it further and hope that you are well, along with those in your family and immediate circle. Your heir included, that he may return to school and associate with my own._

_I accept your offer of friendship, and hope that it may last into this future that you anticipate. _

_Narcissa Malfoy_

She was sorely tempted to put magic on the letter that would react to any detection spells that Lily might cast on it, but knew better than to risk the woman's awful temper. She acted erratically and Narcissa could not have a friendship broken when it was only newly made. It would reflect badly on the Malfoys, even if the Potters were barely respected within most wizarding circles.

So she simply folded up the letter and slipped it into the envelope, writing just Lily's first name on the front – to annoy her, Narcissa doubted that would ever stop being enjoyable – and instructing the house-elf to send it off with the bird that had arrived earlier.

Draco watched all of it, patiently and curiously. She gave him a small smile and he closed his book, putting it on a small table beside his chair. "Mother?" He didn't sound half as disinterested as he was undoubtedly trying to. _Ah, a child's thoughtless charm._

"That letter was from Lily Potter, Draco. Your schoolmate Harry's mother," Narcissa began.

Draco both flushed and frowned at that, as if he couldn't decide whether to be angry or embarrassed. He was a passionate child. It was a trait he had inherited from Lucius, and that she had never fully understood. She was capable of intensity, of willing something into her possession if she decided that she wanted it. If they wanted something that would simply burn everything else as if that would bring it closer. In some ways it was enviable. In many ways, it was not. The least of which was that both found it so difficult to keep their emotions off their faces.

"She has formally requested for there to be a friendship between our two families."

"What? Did you-"

"I have formally accepted, yes. You will not question me, Draco." Her tone was firm, but not cruel. It was less a warning and more a reprimand for his unseemly outburst.

Draco faltered. When he spoke again his voice was measured. "Yes, Mother. I'm just...surprised. I was under the impression that the Potters did not like us much."

He spat out the name like it was something bitter. He hadn't spoken once about Harry since he had arrived home, though Draco had mentioned him in every one of his letters. If he wasn't complaining about 'Potter' getting onto the Quidditch team, he was frustrated with him for knowing a spell Draco didn't, or angry that he had ignored him when they passed in the corridors. Every question he had asked them came back to Harry somehow. It was possible he was particularly interested in Animagi because Harry himself was likely to become one.

While it wasn't good for him to deny his feelings like this, Narcissa was glad that he was motivated to work harder and acquire skills he would otherwise neglect. When he realised he could care for Harry and still compete with him, she would be even gladder.

"I'm sure I couldn't speak for them. Perhaps you could ask Harry about his feelings when you are back at school?" Narcissa said mildly.

"I..." Draco started to speak and very wisely closed his mouth again. He had gone very red. Gryffindor red, almost. "I am expected to...to _talk_ to him?"

"As is he." Narcissa looked over her hands to check for any dots of ink. She knew there wouldn't be any, but it showed Draco just how trivial she thought this matter was.

"He is a Potter. They hardly understand the word courtesy, let alone how to show it."

"Then it will be in your hands, Draco. You will need to show it to him first. Harry Potter is surrounded by Mudbloods and blood-traitors – you could show him what it is like to be a pureblood, one that is true to our ways and responsibilities." Narcissa put slight emphasis on the last word, reminding Draco that at this moment he was overlooking his.

"But...!" Draco started and stopped again. A slow smile came across his face. "I made a formal offer of friendship to him at the start of term, and he refused. Should that just be forgotten?"

"Not forgotten, no. Nothing should be forgotten. Many things, however, should be _set aside_ and remembered later, when there is the most use for it."

He actually looked disappointed. "Yes, Mother. I will...talk...to him. But only as a Malfoy. Never as Draco."

Narcissa smiled. She knew that would not last long, but she did not know what would come of it. "That is enough. Now, back to your reading."

Now to think of a way to explain this to Lucius without admitting she had recognised the man at Diagon Alley. Her life had become so interesting. That, at least, she could thank Lily for.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"_Corclario!_"

"How long were you thinking of then?" Sirius asked.

"It should change in half a minute. If it changes at all." Remus sighed.

He was sitting down and surrounded by nearly all of the glasses they owned, each filled with water. They'd been trying since yesterday to get the spell to work for him. Lily had suggested changing the amount of water he was trying to cast the spell on, so the glasses were filled to different levels. Harry had practiced the motions with him until they were perfect. James had even offered him his wand, just in case it was something about Remus' that prevented it from working.

"You know, I'm thinking we should just line them up. You could cast it faster that way," James said. "What was the phrase, Lily? Two birds with one branch?"

"Stone," she called from where she and Harry were sitting on the other side of the room. Harry didn't think he would have gotten bored trying to help Remus, but it was nice talking with his mother when he'd been away for so long. Not to mention the hot chocolate she'd all but bribed him with.

"Two birds with one stone. Or five glasses with one spell, as it were."

Sirius stared at the glass, prodding it with his finger so the water rocked. "It hasn't changed."

"Ahh. Alright then, where's the next one..."

"I'll get it this time." James stood up and went into the kitchen. He came back with a vase full of water. "We've run out of glasses now. I thought this would be better than a mug, at least you can still see through it."

"Have any of the others changed?" Lily wanted to know.

Sirius leaned carefully on his elbow and looked over them. "'Fraid not. Looks like we've just got to keep trying."

James sat down again, bumping the table with his knee and very nearly sending water everywhere. He steadied it with his hand. "Sorry. Go on, Remus."

"_Corclario!_"

"How long that time?"

"Half a minute, again. Honestly, I think I should just give up."

_It's really strange that it's not working,_ Harry thought as he sipped at his hot chocolate. _George and Fred and I have done it. Sirius got it eventually, and that's because he was doing the wand movements wrong. I couldn't see anything wrong with what Remus was doing. He's saying the spell the right way. He's thinking about what he wants it to do and when he wants the water to change. There can't be anything wrong with our water, because it worked fine for Sirius and me._

"How about I give it a try. If it doesn't work for me then we'll know it just doesn't work," James said and pointed his wand at a glass close to him. "_Corclario._"

"Maybe you should try it as well, Mum," Harry suggested. He could work this out. The twins weren't around but he could manage without them.

"Alright." Lily stood up. "How about we go and sit with them again? You can bring your hot chocolate over."

A minute later the water in James' glass had turned a pale yellow. It took Lily a few more tries but soon her water was laced with blue. Remus was very ready to give up then.

_So there's nothing wrong with the water, or the glasses. Unless you need someone to cast the spell before you do it...but it worked for me yesterday without that, and I've done it before without a problem. I even cast it on wine and it still worked-_

"Oh!" Harry clapped his hands together and everyone turned to look at him. "I think you're doing it right, Remus. Just...just give me a second!" He got up, taking one of the glasses into the kitchen. Pouring the water into the sink he replaced it with some juice. Harry set the new glass in front of Remus. "Try it now," he said confidently.

Remus didn't ask any questions, although Sirius looked like he wanted to. "_Corclario._"

Half a minute later, the colour in the juice disappeared. It had gone completely clear. Harry had to keep his eyes on it so that he could tell it apart from the glasses of water. Lily began to laugh and Remus smiled in relief.

Sirius looked at the water and then at his friend. "So...you don't have a favourite colour then, Moony?"

"I quite like purple, actually. I don't know why it would do that."

"Useful, though," James noted. When Harry gave him a curious look he explained. "You could trick someone into thinking they were drinking water. You could trick other people into thinking _you _were drinking water. It would probably work on potions as well, and then you could get up to all sorts of things. See what I mean?"

Lily suddenly wasn't as amused.

"Wow. I'm going to have to be careful around you, now," Sirius said.

"Maybe we can adjust the spell..." Harry muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Mum!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Notes - **Sorry if this chapter wasn't the best. I'm not fantastically well_. _That aside, what colour do you think Draco would get if he cast _Corclario_? Or the twins? Now that's a good question. I think if I used it I would get green. What do you think you would get? No, I'm not asking these questions because I'm running out of colours. Not at all.


	16. Getting Blamed

As much as Harry had been looking forward to seeing his friends again, Ron was being absolutely awful. Hermione had clearly given up on him, spending her time in the library. She'd tried to talk with Harry when he'd come back from his holidays but Ron had started an argument with her about something really stupid and she'd gone off. From the exasperated look on her face, Harry didn't think it was the first time.

What had happened while he was away? He'd been the only one of them to go home for Christmas, since Ron's parents were travelling and Hermione wanted to study. If it wasn't the only chance he'd have to see his family until the end of term Harry thought he might have stayed at Hogwarts with them. Fred and George had promised some fun if he did, and Oliver ran informal Quidditch practices. But Harry had reasoned that it was only a week and a half and he wouldn't be missing out on overly much.

Apparently he'd been wrong.

"-and this Hufflepuff girl who stayed here was really harsh. I mean, she looked nice enough and she's a _Hufflepuff_, I didn't know they could get angry at _anybody_, so I tried to talk to her – you know, just making conversation – and would you believe that she hexed me? I didn't do anything, it just came out of nowhere-"

"Right, right. Hey, do you know where the twins are?" Harry interrupted. Ron had been going on like that since he'd returned, always sticking to his side and ranting about things Harry really wasn't interested in.

Ron looked at him like he'd just eaten the twins instead of asking about them. "No. No idea. They've been getting up to all kinds of things while you were away, you know. They were flying in the Great Hall, and Pince practically had a heart attack when they made some of the books in the library start tearing themselves up. They even exploded Hagrid's hut. It was a really near thing-"

"Really?" Harry said, surprised. That didn't sound like the sort of thing they would do. They caused trouble, sure, but they never caused anyone harm. At least, not intentionally.

Ron looked uneasy. "Yeah...so anyway, this Hufflepuff girl...or should I tell you about the Ravenclaw who we caught trying to get into the common room? He said he was a Gryffindor and he'd just swapped ties with someone else, but I didn't believe him. He didn't know the password and I couldn't remember ever having seen him before. I don't know why he tried it..."

That was the sort of thing Harry had been listening to all day and he was getting very sick of it. Ron hadn't asked him once how his holidays had been and kept prattling on about his own, which Harry wouldn't have minded if he didn't keep talking so meanly about people or shrugging Harry off every time he asked him a question. This had to have been what annoyed Hermione so much. He never had a chance to ask her either, since Ron kept following him everywhere and was hurt when Harry tried to do something without him.

_Really, what happened? Ron wasn't anything like this when I left. Alright, he was a little bit like this. I just thought he wasn't getting along with Fred and George and left it alone. Maybe, _Harry thought belatedly, _that was a bad decision._

"-but he wasn't happy about that. I don't know why. I mean, his robes were really awful, the colour was an improvement. The second-year just kept apologising until I thought she'd turn blue as well. It was really funny..."

It didn't sound funny. "Yeah, okay Ron. I've just...I've forgotten something. I'll go up to the room and get it, alright?"

"Oh. Well I'll come with you-"

"No, no, that's okay. It's just the room, it's just up the stairs. I'll be down in a bit. Alright?" Harry said hurriedly, beginning to walk away before Ron could protest. If he came with him it wouldn't work, and then he'd have to listen to him for another few hours before some of their housemates got back and could distract him.

Ron smiled at him oddly and sat down in his chair. He'd be sitting there for a while. Harry would feel bad about it if he weren't so annoyed with him right now. He'd make sure to apologise later, and maybe play some chess with him to make up for it.

Getting to their room and opening up his bag, Harry pulled out his Invisibility Cloak and threw it around his shoulders. Not being able to see his feet as he walked was becoming quite familiar to him. He didn't fall over nearly as much, or trip on the cloak like he used to. He had made a point of thanking James for it while he'd been at Godric's Hollow.

He went silently down the stairs and sent one regretful look at Ron before going through the portrait.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

When he was sure the corridor he was in was empty, Harry took the Invisibility Cloak off and folded it up. He hadn't quite thought about what he would do with it and was considering leaving it in an empty classroom when he heard footsteps. He pushed it under his robes quickly, keeping it tucked under one arm. So long as he didn't move it he would be fine. Once the person passed by he could take it out and hide it properly.

It was Draco, looking just as surprised to see Harry as Harry was to see him, and a fair bit more resentful. Harry expected him to just walk past but he stopped in front of him and extended a hand. "Potter."

Harry very carefully shook it. "Um...Malfoy." He almost sighed with relief when his arm returned to his side and the cloak hadn't fallen. Draco was frowning and Harry realised what that must have looked like. "No! I, uh, I just..." _I just have an Invisibility Cloak under my arm and I can't let you see it because I haven't told anyone that I have it yet. I didn't mind shaking hands with you._

Draco shook his head, in the same kind of way Severus did sometimes. "How...were your holidays, Potter?" His voice was strained. He was probably only doing this because his parents had told him to, like Harry's had. It was strange to think that their families suddenly weren't fighting anymore.

"Good," Harry said, a little surprised. "Oh, yeah, they were great. I was just at home but my dad did take me to a Quidditch match. I haven't been to one in a while."

"I don't know how you can still like it, after nearly choking on the Snitch the way you did in the last game you played," Draco sneered. "I suppose it's one thing to watch it and another to actually play it. You should consider yourself fortunate they counted that a win. No one in Slytherin does."

Harry decided to ignore his jabs. At least he was trying to talk to him. "Yeah, I'd say it is. When you're playing it it's a lot more personal. You could fall off, you could...yeah, you could catch the Snitch in your mouth. I'll admit that was strange. When you're watching it it's like you're part of something bigger. You're not just in a team, you're on a side, with hundreds of other people instead of six. They're both great in different ways."

Draco didn't speak for a minute and Harry was worried he'd said too much. If there was anything he could ramble on about it was Quidditch. He loved it, why wouldn't he? Finally Draco spoke. "It's just a game, Potter. A competition."

"Nothing's ever 'just' anything. And yeah, it's a competition. But it doesn't have to be mean. I have more fun playing Quidditch with my friends in their backyard sometimes than I do on the Gryffindor team." Well, he'd blown it. Draco had tried to talk to him and Harry had turned it into an argument. He might as well turn around and walk away right now and sit back down with Ron who might be a git sometimes but was his friend even when Harry didn't agree with him.

"You're making too much out of it."

"What?"

"There are some things that are just what they are, Potter," Draco said. His shoulders weren't as tensed as they'd been when he'd walked over. He didn't sound as angry, either. "A quill's just a quill. A broom's just a broom. A game is just a game. You play them. They end. That's all."

"I don't think so-" Harry was going to say more but he felt the Invisibility Cloak drop and land on his foot. He didn't want to look down because then Draco would. There wasn't any way to pick it up without him seeing. If he just acted normally maybe he wouldn't notice.

"Well, it's not the first time you've been wrong."

Harry was too worried about the cloak to be offended. "Yeah...um...how were your holidays?" He had to keep the conversation going, so that Draco didn't get distracted and look down at the floor.

"They were fine."

"Did you...do anything?"

"I read. Potter, is it normal for you to only have one foot? I don't believe I've noticed it before. Although it would explain a good deal of your clumsiness-"

"Oh, that?" Harry laughed weakly. "Fred and George got bored. You know how that is."

Draco gave him an odd look. "No, I don't. I'm certain you had two feet earlier."

"It comes and goes?"

"Don't try it with me, Potter." Draco knelt down and poked where Harry's foot should have been. He poked at it again and then grasped at the cloak, pulling it off and swinging it about. "Aha!"

"Look, Malfoy, you can't tell anyone-" Harry began.

"Why would I tell anyone?" Draco asked him seriously. He put the cloak on and laughed when his hands disappeared and reappeared. "This is incredible, and far too useful to wind up in Filch's office. I know _you_ can't be taking full advantage of it. Imagine what a Slytherin could get up to with this..."

Harry reached out and held the cloak in his hand. He couldn't be sure that Draco wouldn't just run off with it. "Yes, could I just have it back now?"

Draco stepped back, and Harry who hadn't been gripping it very tightly let go of the cloak. He pulled the cloak over himself and effectively disappeared. "Can you see me?"

"Well, I-"

"You can't see me, can you?" Draco laughed in delight and Harry could hear him walking around. He was beginning to get a bad feeling about this. "This really is wasted on you, Potter. It could be in far better hands..."

"Give it back, please, Malfoy." Harry tried to work out where he was, with only the sounds of his voice and footsteps to go by. He knew he was probably failing miserably.

"No. I think I might keep it."

"Draco," Harry was getting desperate now. It was his cloak, it had been his father's. He used it so often and for so many different things he wasn't sure what he would do without it. "Can I have it back, please?"

Draco stopped moving and Harry began to think he'd actually disappeared when he took the cloak off and handed it to him. He was blushing and looking at the floor. Harry wasn't sure why. "Don't call me that," he said.

"Huh?"

He met his gaze, even though his face was still very red. "'Draco'. Don't call me that. I'm a Malfoy, and that's something to be proud of. Just like you're a Potter..." he trailed off.

"I think that's something to be proud of as well," Harry told him quietly.

Draco watched him for a long moment and then looked away. "I suppose it has its merits," he mumbled. Harry didn't think he had ever heard him mumble before. This was turning out to be a strange day, with Ron being mean and Draco being nice – well, nicer than he'd ever been to Harry.

"Thank me, Potter," he said with his usual arrogance.

"Er...thank you?"

Draco nodded. "You should be grateful that I gave that back to you. Hide it properly, would you, or someone else will see it. Goodbye, then." And he turned and walked away.

Clutching the cloak in his hands, Harry was too surprised to do anything but blink stupidly. Had they just had a conversation that didn't end with someone getting hexed? Not a fight or an argument, but a conversation? He'd hoped...but they'd been at school for months now, and Harry had thought it was impossible. He liked Draco but Draco hadn't seemed to like him. It probably didn't help that his friends hated him as well, with Ron drawing his wand on him all the time and Hermione ready to join him when Draco said the 'm' word.

Maybe he'd only been that way because of the feud between their families. Maybe now that it was over he and Draco could become friends.

Harry realised that he should say goodbye to him, but Draco was already gone. Tucking the cloak back under his robes – this time making sure it wouldn't fall – he walked down the corridor, wondering what Hermione would think about this.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Nearly everyone had returned from their holidays and the corridors were crowded. People were hugging and crying and looking around the castle like they'd been gone a year rather than a week. It was all very stupid. Draco happened to miss his parents when he was away from them, but all these people were celebrating being apart from their families. Their parents mustn't like them. It was the only thing that made sense. Draco didn't like them much either, if all they could do with themselves was cry all over each other. It was messy and ugly-looking.

He pushed through the crowd as elegantly as he could. It didn't matter if he wasn't successful; these weren't people he wanted to impress. Greg and Vince followed him, with Greg making a point of bumping into anyone who had gotten in Draco's way and Vince just bumping into people because that was what he did. They were trying to get to the library. Draco had reasoned that it would be quiet there, since only a few Ravenclaws and maybe Granger would want to study right now.

It was irritating how much taller the upper years were than him. Some of them saw him and moved out of the way, but others didn't see him at all or disregarded him entirely. When Draco was an upper-year, he was going to be different.

"Draco, it's Potter," Greg said as quietly as he could with a group of girls right next to them shrieking madly. He thought they would scare away banshees. Girls were terrifying, really.

Greg poked him in the ribs and Draco jerked. "What?" he snapped.

"It's Potter." He gestured over to the other end of the corridor. Sure enough, there was Potter with Granger and Weasley. They were moving more slowly, probably because Potter was asking everyone politely to let him by. He wasn't going to get anywhere that way.

Greg poked him again and Draco almost grabbed his arm and twisted it, he was so annoyed. "I heard you!"

"What are you going to do about it?"

"I'm going to keep walking, you twit. It's not like we can turn around, anyway. There should be a limit on how many people can be in a corridor at a time." Draco scowled at a boy whose arm came out suddenly to hit Draco's, although he didn't see it. Greg was quiet. "Why?"

"Your families are getting along now. You can't attack him, even if you want to. I just thought you might-"

"I've already spoken to him. Gods be, if one more person steps backwards into me I'm going to hex them so badly that they'll cry every time they see the Slytherin colours." Draco's hand went to his wand, just in case.

"You've already spoken to him?"

"You sound surprised," Draco smirked at him.

"How did it go? What did you talk about?"

"Well, he's still alive." Looking completely overwhelmed by the number of people, but alive. For every step forward he was pushed two back. Potter was going to be stuck here if he didn't act more assertive. They were nearing them now, and Granger at least had noticed them. Potter kept trying to get the attention of a Ravenclaw who was never going to acknowledge him.

Granger looked annoyed. Draco wondered briefly what he'd done when she suddenly glared at Weasley, who was saying something to her. Well, well. They weren't getting along as well as they had when he'd last seen them. Weasley kept blathering on, not realising that Granger was trying to kill him with her eyes. Potter's hand clenched into a fist. Well, well! Something was going on with them. Draco would have to look into it.

When they were near enough to be heard, Draco leaned over to Potter. "You'd be better to go around-" he started to say, but stopped when a wand was pointed at him.

"Ron!" Granger shrieked.

"Did you see that, Harry? He was going to hex you! We'll just have to get him first, sodding Malfoy..." There was anger in his eyes, in his face, but that didn't scare Draco. What had him nervous was the hint of desperation. What was Weasley _doing_?

Potter ran a hand through his hair. _That's not exactly helpful! You've been spouting off all this stuff about us being friends and I gave you back your Invisibility Cloak, you git, you owe me! Stop him before I get hurt! _"Ron, would you put the wand down! Malfoy wasn't doing anything." He sounded tired. He sounded _tired _when Draco had a wand in his face with a crazy-eyed Weasley on the other end! He should sound worried, at least!

"He was! He had his hand on his wand! He would have taken it out and hexed you, that's what Malfoy does!"

Draco quickly took his hand from his wand. "No! I was just – I wasn't –"

Potter looked at him and Draco tried to communicate with his eyes that he hadn't done anything wrong here, and that Potter had damn well get him out of this without him being hurt or humiliated, because he _owed_ him and their families were getting along and didn't that mean anything?

Potter sighed. "He wasn't doing anything, Ron. Can you put the wand down, please?"

"Harry, you didn't even see it! He had his wand out and he was going to hex you! I'm your friend, I've got to look out for you." Gods, Weasley had gone mad. He had actually gone mad. A mad person was pointing a wand at him. He was going to die.

"He was _not_, Ronald, and you will put the wand down right now. I don't know what's wrong with you lately, but in case you've forgotten we are in a _corridor_ with plenty of other people, and if you use any magic right now it could hurt someone, and I know you don't want to be responsible for that!"

The wand wavered. Gods, he was going to have to thank Granger. That would be more humiliating than anything Weasley could have done to him.

There was a rustling behind him. Draco closed his eyes. _Oh Merlin no, Greg stop him before he does something stupid-_

"See! Crabbe's in on it! He was going to attack us!" Weasley said triumphantly.

"He's just trying to help his friend, Ron, because you're pointing a bloody wand at him! If you put yours down he will as well!" Potter shouted. Weasley didn't show any sign of heeding his friend's very good advice. "Damn it!" he hissed angrily, taking his wand out of his robes.

Finally. Potter was going to show Weasley what it felt like to be threatened like this, and Draco could enjoy the look on his face before he lowered his wand and then Draco could enjoy not having to fear for his dignity. His father was going to hear about this. By the end of the week the Weasleys were going to be even poorer than they already were.

Potter pointed the wand at him and Draco's eyes widened.

It didn't matter that his expression was one of desperate apology.

It didn't matter that they'd never really been friends.

Draco felt betrayed.

"_What_ is going on here?" came McGonagall's outraged voice, seemingly out of nowhere. Everyone who had raised a wand lowered it and she stepped between them, but not before Draco saw Weasley's face twisted into a smile. It was frightening. He didn't appear to regret what he'd done, instead he actually looked proud of himself for doing it.

"We passed Malfoy and Ron just suddenly drew on him," Granger was saying. "We were trying to stop him, then Crabbe drew on Ron – to protect Malfoy, no other reason – and then Harry drew on Malfoy as well. It's not Malfoy's fault. It was unprovoked."

"Ten points from each of you, and another five from Slytherin-"

Draco froze. He was going to be blamed for this?

"What? Professor McGonagall, he really didn't do anything!"

"You might not have seen it, Miss Granger," McGonagall told her sternly. "Kindly do not interrupt. All of you will have detention, and I expect nothing of this kind to happen again. Magic can be dangerous. It is not simply there for your own amusement."

There was a round of barely audible 'yes professor's. Draco found he could only nod, even when McGonagall gave him a pointed look. He was getting blamed for this? He hadn't done anything! It was Weasley, who should lose points for that grin on his face if nothing else. But McGonagall didn't look twice at _him_, did she?

This was so unfair. It wasn't his fault, he'd even been trying to help Potter, who could only look at him pathetically. _This isn't something you can just make up to me with sad eyes, Potter. I wouldn't even accept an apology from you, though I don't think you're the kind to give me one. I was right. I can't stand you. You could have said something. You could have not pointed your wand at me in the first place._

He hated him. He really, really hated him.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Oliver tried to walk as quietly as he could. If only he had his broom, then he wouldn't have to worry about it. But if any of the portraits were awake and told the professors about someone flying around at night he'd definitely get in trouble. He didn't think they would listen to him when he said he didn't normally do this, and that he was only looking for Percy, and that he was going to go back to bed as soon as he found him.

He'd actually managed to remember that they had a test for Transfiguration the next day, but then when he'd gotten out his books to study for it he couldn't remember what it was on. Percy would know, so he had decided to go and ask him. He was on patrol but Oliver knew the route he always took and just had to follow it backwards until he ran into him. The trouble was managing to not run into anyone else. None of the other prefects liked him much and Filch only seemed to like his cat, and maybe that portrait on the third floor Oliver had caught him staring at a couple of times.

So Oliver went carefully, staying near to the candles so that _Lumos_ wouldn't give him away. More than once he jumped behind a tapestry, thinking he had heard someone coming. He was lucky and no one did. That is, until Filch rounded a corner and began to shout at him.

Oliver span around and ran in the opposite direction. He was fast and didn't doubt that he could get away, just so long as he didn't run into any more trouble. He headed down random corridors until he thought he was far enough away, and then opened up a door with a quick _Alohomora _and went into the room behind it to catch his breath. He closed the door and leaned against it, his eyes closed and breathing heavily.

It didn't smell right in here. Kind of like an animal that hadn't been washed for a while. And it didn't sound right, either. Like an animal breathing, thickly and menacingly. Opening his eyes, Oliver saw that he'd just thrown himself into a room with a very large and odd-looking dog. They weren't meant to have three heads, were they?

"Oh," he said, because there really wasn't anything else he could think to say. "Hello. I, uh...just...I'm just passing through. You know, Filch and all that..."

The dog began to growl. That didn't seem good.

"Yes, well, I'll be going now. Thanks...for your room. Good, uh-" Oliver began to edge toward the door handle but the dog evidently thought he wasn't moving fast enough and snapped its very large jaws at him. It was several times more terrifying when there were three of them, and the animal was much larger than he was. "Right, yes! I'll, uh, goodbye!"

He opened the door and got through it as quickly as he could, feeling the dog's breath against his back. There was no sign of Filch, who he might very well ask about the dog if he did see him. Hogwarts had many secrets, but Oliver hadn't thought any of them looked quite like that. Big and mean and terrifying and dog-shaped.

And it had been standing on a trapdoor, too. Maybe it was there to guard something? Percy might know. All the more reason to go and find him.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Notes - **This is not going to be a Ron bashing fic! He'll sort this stuff out soon, I promise. Keep in mind Draco isn't exactly the most reliable narrator, either. :P

NOTICE: I'm getting more and more unwell, so rather than prolonging putting out these chapters I'm going to take a bit of time to recover and then come back to it. I promise updates will resume on Saturday the 9th of July, and may start earlier if I get better before then. There is no way I'm leaving this story. Please be patient and wish me a speedy recovery!


	17. Turning Back

**Notes - **So I'm back! I'm not completely well, but I'm much better than I was. Thanks for being patient and waiting for me to come back to this, and a second lot of thanks for leaving reviews and subscribing and whatever else while I was away. It made me so happy to see. The next chapter is set to be the last one for first year, so here's me trying to get the Philosopher's Stone stuff out of the way. This story does contain spoilers, so if you don't want to see (sort of) what happens in canon, it might be best to put off reading this story until you've read the books or seen the films.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The common room was busy and almost no one was studying. People were coming and going through the portrait, or sitting and talking loudly to each other, or watching George and Fred test out a spell they were working on. A couple of sixth years were pretending to be Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin and were rolling over furniture casting harmless spells at each other. Harry wasn't sure what he'd be doing if Hermione hadn't already decided for him.

She'd had that look on her face all day, the '_we need to talk and we're going to talk so start thinking about what you're going to say_' look. It was usually reserved for Ron, but apparently Harry had messed up badly enough to deserve it.

Now they were sitting in the common room and Hermione had decided that even if the sixth years had just broken a chair and the spell that Fred and George were working on was musical and very distracting, they were going to have the talk here. Harry wasn't going to argue. She looked just as angry as she did stern, and on Hermione that wasn't good.

"Alright then, Harry. Why did you do it?" Hermione was angry, yes, but she was going to give Harry the chance to explain.

Harry hated to ask, but he needed to be sure they were talking about the same thing. "Why did I do what?"

She gave him a look. "Malfoy didn't deserve that, you know. I don't like him either but that wasn't fair. And really, you've just made things so much worse for yourself. I wouldn't be surprised if he-"

"Right, that," Harry said hurriedly.

"Why did you do it?" Hermione asked again.

There was a sudden blast of music from the other side of the room which Hermione ignored but Harry glanced over at. George had made singing come from someone's robes, but it was out of tune and screeching. Fred clapped him on the back but George looked like he didn't know if he was happy it had worked or disappointed that it hadn't worked well.

"Harry!"

"Oh, sorry," he turned back to her. "About Malfoy, I really didn't... I wasn't going to hex him or anything. I thought that I could get Ron to put his wand down, and then I would too. But then Professor McGonagall came and I didn't get the chance to fix it."

Hermione appeared to consider that. Harry hoped she would know he was telling the truth. He hadn't meant for it to happen the way it did. He hadn't meant to make Ron think it was okay to act like that. He hadn't meant to cost Slytherin points unfairly. He hadn't meant to ruin a new friendship and make Draco hate him.

The other boy had made it clear that he didn't want anything to do with Harry. He was so angry that when Harry tried to apologise to him in class, reasoning that Draco would have to listen to him there, Draco had actually hexed him. Even when he was punished for it, he didn't appear to regret it. They couldn't be friends now. Harry knew that. He'd messed up and now he had to pay for it. Their families might get along, but Draco and Harry wouldn't.

_He's not 'Draco' anymore either. I keep forgetting that he's 'Malfoy'._

"That was incredibly stupid, Harry," Hermione said finally. The anger was gone from her eyes and her words weren't as hard. She'd forgiven him, even if she thought he'd been an idiot.

"I know."

"You've apologised, haven't you?"

"Well, I..." he trailed off. Hermione's expression changed and he hurried to explain himself. "I tried. You were there in Herbology when Malfoy got me with a spell that made my breath really hot. I don't even know there was a spell that could do that, I wonder what it was-"

"It's called the Pepper Breath Hex," Hermione told him. "Did he really hex you for apologising to him? I didn't think he liked us much before, he must really hate us now."

Harry hung his head. "Yeah."

"It's just as well Ron hasn't gone to him then. I was telling him that he should, but maybe it's better to wait until Malfoy's a little less angry," she frowned.

"Right," was all that Harry said. Truthfully he didn't think Ron was ever planning on apologising to Draco. Even if he did it wasn't likely that Draco would accept it. He seemed even madder at Ron than he was at Harry. And really, Harry wasn't completely happy with him either.

"I just wish both of them would be less stubborn," Hermione huffed.

"Did anything happen while I was away?"

"What? No. I mean, the twins charmed some brooms to fly through the Great Hall at breakfast yesterday and something nearly burned the roof of Hagrid's hut off – they won't tell us what did it, but I think it was a Fire Crab. I did think they only lived in Fiji but it turns out that some wizards keep them as pets, but you're meant to have a license and Hagrid-" Hermione broke off and started again. "No, nothing really happened. Why do you ask?"

"I thought maybe...with Ron..." Harry watched the sixth years nearly tumble into the fireplace, but he wasn't really paying attention. "I don't understand why he's acting this way."

"Well it's obvious, isn't it?"

Harry looked at her expectantly. He had the feeling he was missing something really obvious, and maybe Hermione had seen it.

"You honestly don't know?" Hermione asked, and sighed when he shook his head. "He's jealous, Harry."

"What could he be jealous about?"

"Look, you've been friends with his brothers for a long time. But you only started hanging around Ron when you came to Hogwarts. Now you're talking with the twins all the time about things he doesn't understand and you three are constantly doing things without him. It makes sense that he'd be upset."

"But George and Fred don't feel that way when I spend time with Ron." Or maybe they did and Harry just hadn't noticed. That was a scary thought. He didn't want to think that he was hurting people without realising it.

"No, but it's not the same for them. You've been friends longer and-" Hermione stopped talking and looked at something past Harry. He turned and saw that it was Ron, smiling at them as he tried to get past the sixth years.

'Salazar' and 'Godric' were trying to get support from the other people in the common room. The new 'Gryffindors' had their robes changed to a deep red colour and the 'Slytherins' robes became a murky green. Both sides were acting comically as they play-fought with each other. The 'Slytherins' hissing and lifting their chins up so high that they kept bumping into things. The 'Gryffindors' weren't beyond taking a swing at their own house, and kept posing heroically and brandishing their wands. It was quite funny to watch.

Ron made it past them without too much trouble, and laughed more than once at what they were doing. He looked fine, Harry thought. Normal. Happy.

But when he noticed Fred and George on the other side of the room, his expression darkened. His smile didn't look right, and there was something in his eyes that Harry couldn't read. Ron looked back over to him and brightened again. It was like nothing had happened. If Harry hadn't been watching him he would have missed it.

He turned back to Hermione, who was giving him one of her best '_I told you so'_ looks.

"So Dean's been complaining about that game of chess I played against him the other day – you'd remember Hermione, you were there – and I said that we could play again later. It should be fun. Do you want to watch?" Ron said as he sat down near them.

Hermione frowned. "I wasn't there, actually. You said that I'd be in the way and I-"

"That'd be great, Ron, thanks!" Harry interrupted loudly, giving Hermione pointed looks. Ron had been kinder after the incident with Draco, more like the Ron they remembered him being. He was still occasionally cruel or insulting, but Harry would rather not start fights over it if it meant that he'd get worse again.

She fell silent and Ron looked at her oddly. They all jumped when music suddenly blared through the room, lasting about half a minute and leaving their ears ringing painfully.

"WELL, AT LEAST IT WAS IN TUNE THAT TIME," Fred shouted.

"WHAT?" George shouted back at him.

"WHAT? WHAT DID YOU SAY?"

"I CAN'T. HEAR. YOU."

"OH! IT WAS IN TUNE. IN TUNE. IT WAS IN TUNE THIS TIME. YOU'RE JUST PRETENDING YOU CAN'T HEAR ME NOW, AREN'T YOU?"

"NO, I'M NOT. WHAT DID YOU SAY?"

Harry laughed along with many others and rubbed at his ears, as if that would help them to go back to normal. Slowly but surely his hearing was evening out, until he could hear the curses Ron was muttering under his breath and Hermione's not-so-subtle attempts to get his attention.

"Right, well. What were we talking about?" Harry asked, his own voice sounding strange to him.

"CHESS," Hermione answered, and then coughed. "But I'm very happy to talk about something else."

"What have you got against chess?" While their voices went up and down as they tried to compensate for their hearing, Ron's sounded completely unaffected. He just rubbed his ear absently and waited for Hermione's answer.

"How are you sounding so normal?"

"Oh." Ron forced a smile. "I've grown up with this. I'm used to it. I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out I'm already half-deaf thanks to those two."

"Well, that's got to be useful," Harry tried.

"Yeah...it's really crazy in here today, isn't it? People are back from their holidays I suppose, but this is mad." Ron glanced over at the sound of a chair breaking when a 'Gryffindor' fell into it, which reached Harry's abused ears full seconds later.

"I think I can hear normally again. Are you okay, Harry?"

"Almost." Everything had a faint echo. Hopefully the spell hadn't done any real damage to their hearing.

The portrait door swung open and Harry saw a few people wince. They were the ones sitting closest to the twins and had heard the music more loudly. Percy stomped in through it, oblivious to the pain he was causing to people's heads. Fred and George had, by this point, stopped shouting and gone back to testing their spell. The person they were actually testing it on had his eyes shut very tightly and his lips were moving soundlessly.

Percy, who ordinarily would have jumped on that, just glanced at them and headed for the stairs. The reason for this was made clear when Oliver fell through the portrait and went after him.

"But I'm telling you, there's something there!" Oliver said loudly, making a few people wince. "Come on, just take a look at it with me-"

"The third floor corridor is forbidden, Oliver. Every student, especially a student who was a _prefect,_ would respect that and _keep away from it_."

"Oh come on, you know you want to see what's in there-"

Percy whirled around. "What do you expect me to do? Walk down there with you and just go into the _forbidden corridor _which is expressly _forbidden _by not just any teacher but the _Headmaster of Hogwarts_? Just step in there to take a look at that big dog or whatever you were rattling on about?"

"Not a big dog. A huge dog. And I could go without seeing that again, thank you. I'm interested in whatever it was guarding, standing on a trapdoor like that it had to be guarding something. And I'd bet it was important," Oliver said knowingly. "You know, if old Dumbledore's protecting it and all that."

"Would you _shut up!_" Percy hissed, looking around the common room as though he'd only just noticed that they had the attention of nearly everyone in it but Fred and George. Harry didn't think he had to be too worried. Half of them probably couldn't hear him, and the others wouldn't be interested in what they were talking about. It was easy to lose people at 'forbidden corridor' and 'huge dog'.

Harry, however, was listening attentively.

"You can go on about this all you like, but would you kindly refrain from doing it when we're around all these people? Need I remind you that I'm a _prefect_, and I can't be seen going on about dogs and doors and all this other nonsense?"

"They don't care, Perce, really."

"And that stupid nickname isn't helping it either!"

"Hmm? It's nice though," Oliver said matter-of-factly and Percy groaned. "What are you going to do now? Study? You already do that enough for the both of us. Just leave the books somewhere and then come with me to check out this door-"

"No."

"Well I'm going with or without you. Isn't it your duty as a prefect to make sure that I'm safe? And you know how good I am with spells..."

"You've already played that card before, Oliver. I'm not going to go with you." Percy went back to stomping over to the stairs, and the people around him went back to wincing, but Oliver didn't go back to following him and stood there for a few moments before saying a single word.

"Coward."

Percy froze and turned back to him slowly. He was angry, in the same way Harry got angry when someone told him he was useless because he hadn't saved the world yet. Oliver didn't look surprised at his reaction and just stood there. They were good friends and Harry thought he might have said it because he knew it would get him to stop. Percy took off his glasses and folded them, tucking them between his chest and the books he was carrying.

"I am going to my room to study," he said, with a pause between each of his words. For the first time Harry thought of Percy as frightening.

And then he turned and began to head up the stairs.

"I wonder if Penelope's still going to want to go out with you WHEN SHE FINDS OUT WHAT AN UNADVENTUROUS SOD YOU ARE," Oliver shouted up to him. Some of the people sitting near him looked about ready to kick one or both of them for causing so much noise when their heads weren't quite back to normal.

Percy stopped again and when he turned back his eyes were shooting sparks. It was like they always did that and he kept it hidden behind his glasses. Harry was probably going to feel a bit uncomfortable around him now whenever he wasn't wearing them.

"Oh no," Ron whispered. "I'm glad we're not at home right now. Percy wouldn't want to wreck anything at school."

When Percy spoke his voice was calm and quiet. Harry would have preferred that he were shouting. "We're going to go to my room and talk. I'm going to listen to you go on about the corridor and you're going to listen to me when I tell you about respect, you bloody sodding git."

And he turned again, and headed up the stairs again, and silently Oliver followed him as if this was exactly what he'd wanted, even if just the idea of being in his place made Harry shiver.

People went back to chattering and tussling and walking around as soon as they were gone. Hermione and Ron were speaking but Harry didn't pay them much attention. He was too busy thinking over what Oliver had said. There was a dog in the forbidden corridor – a big one, although Harry wasn't sure how big a dog had to be to get called that – and it was standing on a trapdoor. Oliver thought it was guarding something and that whatever it was it was important.

Going there would probably be dangerous. Oliver was a fifth year and he was still trying to get Percy to go with him. Harry was a first year and didn't know as many spells as he did. He wasn't sure he'd be able to look out for himself if something bad happened.

There probably wasn't much point, either. For all he knew the dog could be guarding a pile of sweets that Dumbledore didn't want to share with the other professors, or there could be nothing at all in the room beneath the trapdoor. It could be that the dog was the problem, and they were forbidden from going into the corridor until it was taken care of and wouldn't bite them.

Harry had lots of interesting things to do. He had the map to improve and spells to change and letters to write and Ron's jealousy thing to sort out. He didn't need to go into the corridor. After all, it was dangerous and pointless.

"I'm going to check out the forbidden corridor. Are you coming?"

"Wha-" It took a few moments for Hermione to think of all the reasons why that was such a terrible idea, and those few moments were enough for Ron to stare thoughtfully at Harry and nod.

"Alright. Let's do this."

Harry smiled at him gratefully, not looking at Hermione for the moment. He didn't need her to tell him that he was taking advantage of Ron's jealousy. He needed people to go with him and Ron had said yes, even if normally he wouldn't have wanted to and it was most likely something he was doing so that he could feel like they were close, like Harry now realised pointing his wand at Draco had been.

He knew what he'd done and he could regret it later.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Blaise jabbed his fork into the bowl of quickly congealing porridge in front of him. It was congealing because he'd wanted it to, and the house elves were as accommodating to people's tastes as they could manage to be. He wasn't going to eat it. He just liked to take his fork and jab at it. Pretend it was brains or something. Really, who was going to eat porridge at dinnertime anyway. He didn't even really like the stuff, it just congealed nicely and thickly so that he could stab it and his fork would catch in it and he'd have to drag it out again.

It was a ritual for him. Every day at dinner, a bowl of porridge set aside just for him. It was relaxing to jab at it, a good way of getting rid of the day's tensions. Not to mention it frightened anyone who sat near enough to him to see it. It was a good and easy way to put himself ahead of them in this race between Slytherins. His mother had always said 'someone who is uncomfortable around you is weak'. And weakness was to be desired, of course if he was ever going to get anywhere.

He jabbed at his porridge and deliberately caught the eye of a third year sitting a few seats down. Blaise wanted to smile but he didn't do anything. He just held the boy's gaze and kept jabbing until he went pale and looked away. Mother always said 'in the same way people imagine each other more wonderful than they really are, you can make someone fear you more than your actions deserve to be feared'. And a frightened person was a weak person, and so on and et cetera.

Slytherin wasn't posing altogether much of a challenge. A few of these students had potential, but if they kept going the way they were already it wasn't ever going to be realised. Some were socially adept and had embarrassed Blaise more than once. They were the ones he stayed near to. He wasn't going to let his training fail just because he was at school and some of these other students' parents weren't dealing with them adequately.

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, for example, had done surprisingly little to prepare their son for Hogwarts. Blaise had expected Draco Malfoy to be a member of the elite in the same way they were, but it was like he was an illusion someone had cast half-heartedly, and you could see through it in places and it didn't look right in others. He had money, he had good parents and that was all the boy had going for him.

He got angry. He went red when he got angry, and his mother had told him just how unappealing that was on anyone, let alone someone with his ivory skin. He laughed too much, at stupid things. He did well in one class but not in another – it was better to do reasonably well in both, or excel in both, or if it was necessary fail miserably at both. 'Consistency is essential, even if you don't appear to be keeping constant.' He held himself well, better even than Blaise, but he held his wand like it was just a stick he really liked.

They were both children really, but Draco Malfoy was a child.

And he obsessed openly about Harry Potter, always staring at him across the hall and pretending not to notice when Gregory tried all he could to get him to stop. He got upset when Blaise simply _talked _to him, even though he was the one who chose to argue with Harry and keep them from being friends. Because really, it's hard not to be friends with someone when you obsess about them so greatly. You want to be near them and they like the attention. It should work.

Draco Malfoy somehow failed at even that. _It's impressive, really,_ Blaise mused as he jabbed his porridge. _How good he is at getting exactly what he doesn't want. _

Right now he was staring at Harry, looking so much like a simmering potion that it was a little odd to _not_ see steam rising from his head. He didn't eat much, though it was well-known in Slytherin house that he went down to the kitchens twice or three times a week and willingly associated with house elves, who fed him more than he could easily eat. He did that so that he could stare at Harry without interruption. He'd gotten very good at ignoring Gregory's violence under the table, poking and kicking and pinching until Draco was undoubtedly glad that their robes were long and could hide it all.

Soon Gregory would stop and then Snape would start and take his own time to realise that Draco wasn't going to get over his infatuation with a few kicks to the shin or carefully timed detentions. He was in love. Blaise knew love. His mother was on her fifth husband now. He'd seen the different ways each had loved her, and the way she had felt about each of them.

Draco Malfoy, interestingly, was in the only kind of love that had lasted. His mother's second husband, a man named Roy, had loved her that way. It was a Muggle car that had stopped him from doing it forever.

He wasn't going to fall out of love with Harry, and people were fooling themselves if they thought otherwise. So Blaise intended on watching him and coaxing him so that he might actually make something of himself and be deserving of the Boy Who Lived. The wizarding world only had one of those, after all.

They had seven years at Hogwarts, and they were almost done with one of them. All Draco had done was push Harry further away than Blaise would have thought he would allow. If nothing changed soon Harry was going to begin to hate him back, but truly, not in the false way Draco did to justify his feelings to himself. And really Blaise didn't want to see that. They were likable, both of them, and they'd be likable together. Roy and his mother had been likable together. Harry and Draco would just have to be warned about Muggle cars.

Still, a lot had happened in one year and a lot more could happen in seven. Blaise jabbed at his porridge, pressing it against the side of the bowl so the it bulged over his fork and hummed to himself. The boy sitting next to him shivered and he resisted the urge to smile.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Notes - **What can I even say about Blaise. I love him and he freaks me out at the same time. I actually feel weird thinking about eating porridge after that.


	18. The Stone part one

**Notes - **Hello! I bet some of you weren't expecting this update. Well, I hope it turned out okay. It's been some time since I started writing this story. These two chapters are meant to be a bit different from the others, I had always planned it that way. What was unexpected was that I got so caught up in writing what was meant to be only one chapter, that it became too long and I had to cut it into two. That doesn't happen to me very often.

Before I started writing this again, I of course sat down and read through everything so far (as well as my notes and plans, which are very long). It took me almost four hours! I always thought that people would never see the amount of time I put into writing these, but if it takes a good bit of time for others to read it and, hopefully, they are able to enjoy it throughout - that's brilliant! It really is. I hope that there are still people out there following this story. I'm grateful to any of you who are.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"I can't believe he spent the entire lesson talking about a spell he wasn't going to teach us," Draco said angrily, blotting away the ink on his quill with more force than was necessary.

Greg made a sound of agreement but otherwise ignored him, picking up his own books. Vince had smuggled some food into the class and was trying to cram it into his sleeve so that Quirrell wouldn't notice it when they walked out. He was, of course, doing a terrible job. There were crumbs all over his desk, on his unopened books and bobbing around in his inkpot. Draco was honestly beyond reprimanding him for his stupidity.

The tip of his quill snapped, both startling and angering him. At the same time Vince clumsily threw his arm out over his desk, trying to brush away the crumbs no doubt, but without sparing a thought for his uncovered inkpot. Fortunately it was lifted safely up by Blaise. He placed it back down and looked at his stained fingertips with mild distaste.

Vince grunted at him.

"You're very welcome," said Blaise calmly.

Draco wanted to crush the broken quill, but instead he wrapped it up carefully and put it with the rest of his things. He was in a very bad mood. Defence Against the Dark Arts had, unsurprisingly, been a waste of his time. Potter seemed to have forgotten about what had happened just a few days ago, and that he was meant to _apologise_. Draco would never forgive him, of course. It was just the proper thing to do. Though he could hardly expect Potter to understand that.

The only thing good that had happened today was that Weasley had somehow turned the other Weasleys against him and gotten himself hexed. All day his robes had been randomly bursting into song. Every time they did he went the most ghastly shade of red. Draco thought that he deserved it, and it saved him having to come up with a suitable punishment himself.

He had written to his parents telling them exactly what had happened, and why it just wasn't _safe_ for him to be around Potter. Of course it was impossible for them to be friends now, whichever way you viewed it. He didn't know how they would react, but it was to be expected that they wouldn't take kindly to their only son and heir being very nearly killed at school.

"You're good at Charms, aren't you Draco. Second best in our year. Isn't that right?" Blaise mused.

Draco would have reacted badly if he wasn't painfully aware that what he said was true. In the last class he'd been asked a question he didn't know the answer to. Unexpectedly, Granger had answered it for him. She seemed to be developing a habit of saving him from embarrassing situations. Rather than owe a Mudblood, Draco planned to go to the library after class to study – it just wouldn't do to be outdone by her. As annoying as he found Granger, it was true that she forced him to work harder, and a part of him was coming to resentfully respect her.

He would never have admitted it to anyone. Not his friends, not his parents, and certainly not the girl herself.

"Well, there's no going against Granger. She keeps all that knowledge in that hair of hers, I'm sure. And second place is..." Blaise trailed off suggestively. When Draco didn't react, he shrugged. "As long as she doesn't think herself above us, as purebloods and as Slytherins... Of course her breeding doesn't even compare. A lion is nothing like a snake. Brash and loud and...good grief, do you think Weasley's robes are going to be making that racket _all_ day?"

Someone had come up with the brilliant idea that maybe they could break the spell by hitting Weasley's robes. They seemed to have forgotten that he was still wearing them and a couple of his housemates were whacking him with their textbooks. Draco smirked to himself. Weasley would not only be red, but black and blue as well, when the hex had worn off.

"This is precisely what I was saying. Gryffindors just don't have any sense. Ah...who is that talking to Quirrell? Do you recognise him? He's not a professor..."

Draco was much too preoccupied with Weasley's misery to care what Blaise was saying to him. By the time he looked over, whoever it was had left and Quirrell was scurrying out of the room so fast his turban might have fallen off. Which would have been interesting, because they were all wondering what he had under there. Likely several bits of garlic and his wand for safekeeping. The turban was certainly large enough.

Potter left soon after, with Granger and a red-faced Weasley in tow. He wondered briefly where they were going before it occurred to him that he was still angry and really should not care. Nudging Vince to get him to move, he gathered up his things and walked past Blaise.

"Draco."

Merlin, couldn't he just leave him alone?

"I was wondering if you would help me with Charms, as I'm so useless at it."

That was a lie. The Zabinis were so good at lying, it was easy to know that they _were_, but almost impossible to know _what about_. Father had warned him not to try to outwit Blaise and it had said nothing about Draco's skill, rather the other boy's. He was dangerous and clever. He did not appear to feel emotion, never showing pride in having defeated someone or anger when he lost. He did not like what was improper, and had said that he liked Harry Potter, but beyond that no one knew what he cared about. Draco thought at times that he did not love anyone beyond himself. He'd not mentioned his mother, his only blood relative and an undoubtedly refined woman, at all, not even once.

Draco smirked at him. "We were just about to go to the library to study, actually. How convenient. If you'd like to come with us... Of course, you'd have to wait for me to finish some reading, first. It shouldn't take more than half an hour."

"No, that's quite alright," Blaise said smoothly. "I'll just have to ask Pansy. She doesn't do too badly. Quite an achievement when you consider that neither of her parents can cast _Lumos_ and her brother has just failed his OWLs. I'll see you back at the room, then."

It bored Blaise to sit in the library quietly and he didn't last more than ten minutes in there, when he did go. It was the easiest way for Draco to get rid of him. For some reason he'd taken to following him around lately. Probably trying to gain favour with his family and make his own appear more respectable, as the Zabini name commanded fear, but not respect. It was understandable that Blaise would want to change that.

He walked out, happier having forgotten about his broken quill and Vince's stupidity, and thought about how much better he felt when Potter wasn't around.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Really, Ronald, it's not that bad! Just wait for the spell to wear off. It can't be much longer," said an exasperated Hermione.

"_Not that bad?_" Ron practically shrieked. "It's awful! All day, having to listen to this stupid song! In the middle of classes! Every one of our professors has taken points off me! I would have thought you'd care about that at least, Hermione. You're always getting upset when we lose one or two points, why don't you _care_?"

"Well Professor Sprout did give you that fifteen," Harry pointed out. Right after she'd taken three from him, because the kindly woman had seen how upset Ron was about it. If he'd just realise that everyone was trying to help him he might stop getting so worked up, like complaining was going to make the spell wear off faster.

Really, it hadn't been good of George and Fred to try it out on their brother, not when his attitude had been so bad already. Harry had tried to stop them. Not that Ron remembered that, having blamed him for this at least five times.

"I have to have had at least fifty taken off me by now! And it's not even my fault!" His voice was hoarse, as he had to shout over the music to be heard at all, and his face was terribly red. He looked like he was going to cry. Harry wanted to feel sorry for him, but he just felt frustrated instead. It was only a prank. The twins had done much worse, and Ron was kicking a fuss over this?

The music actually sounded quite nice, he thought.

"You're exaggerating, Ronald. I've been keeping track."

"Well you would, wouldn't you!" Ron said accusingly.

Hermione rounded on him. "Look, I'm trying to help you here! You're getting upset over something so small, when we're about to do something really dangerous! Why can't you care about yourself, and us, enough to be just a little bit worried, or _at least_ _shut up about your clothes!_"

"Isn't that Professor Quirrell, just ahead of us?" Maybe he should have brought the Invisibility Cloak. The only reason he hadn't was because he hadn't told Ron and Hermione about it yet.

"Hmm? Why would he be heading this way?"

"We must be in trouble!" Ron wailed.

"For God's sake, Ronald! It's probably just a coincidence," Hermione said with so much certainty that Harry couldn't help but agree with her. She was good like that. Usually she was good at calming Ron down as well, but as soon as he'd been hexed by the twins all of Ron's meanness had come back, along with more self-pity than Harry could stand. He was trying very hard not to lose his temper at him.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It was always good to have Greg around, even if all he could really do in the library was carry heavy books for him. He was taller and stronger than Draco, and he was expected to protect him under the guise of being merely his lackey. It had been the same with their fathers when they were at school. It was just extraordinarily lucky that Greg had also been born with a brain and, to everyone's surprise, commonsense. On the other hand, Vince had neither of those things. Which was quite clear from the way he sat at a table, bits of pastry falling out of his sleeve, trying to set some of the books on fire.

Books, which Draco had repeatedly tried to explain, that he was using.

He trusted Greg to keep an eye on him and started on the first book, _A History of the Development of Experimental Charmwork. _What had Granger been going on about? A law that can tell you what a certain spell will do, so that you don't have to cast it and worry about it having unwanted consequences. It can help when inventing your own spells, didn't she say that? He flicked through the pages.

"Ahh. Balfour's Law, named after Balfour Blane, who established the Committee on Experimental Charms..."

Greg made a soft sound and pointed to something on the page. Draco read it and his face lit up. He gave his friend a look of gratitude. Greg smiled slightly at him, and then fought roughly with Vince to take his wand away. He'd actually burnt the corner of one of the books. As if she could sense it, Madam Pince was soon standing powerfully over them.

"All of you, OUT!" she cried.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"I think the worst part is not knowing when they're going to go off next," Ron said pathetically.

They'd been relieved when he had stopped shouting, until he had started quietly whining instead. It was wearing on their nerves. Harry kept expecting Hermione to tell him off again, but she never did. She looked to have given up. Ron was beyond her help. And to be honest, Harry wasn't willing to do much for him either.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Shh!"

The corridors were huge and empty, with fewer portraits here than everywhere else in the school. Of the ones that hadn't been moved after this area had been made forbidden to students, most were empty, or of animals rather than people. There shouldn't have been anyone around, but Harry looked anyway, half-expecting to have Professor Quirrell jump out at them and give them all detentions. They'd lost sight of him somewhere along the way.

While he did that, and Ron sulked a bit more, Hermione went about finding the door that Oliver had spoken about. It hadn't sounded like it was hidden but Harry was prepared to cast some Revealment Charms he'd been practicing if he needed to.

"It's right here."

"Are you sure?"

"There aren't any other doors, are there?"

"Great, Hermione!" If she wasn't so rule-abiding, Harry would have loved to bring her along with them when he and the twins went out to explore. She would have been a great mischief-maker. Instead she would make a very good prefect one day, he rather thought. Best to get on her good side now, so that later she might cut him a bit of slack. Mum had been really hard on Dad when they were seventh-years, because he hadn't been careful enough and then she'd become Head Girl.

"I could have told you that," Ron muttered.

It was becoming increasingly hard to just ignore him.

"Why is it open? No one's meant to be coming here..." Hermione wondered aloud. "But it has to be this one. That's just...strange." She shook her head, as if to shake off a feeling of uneasiness.

There was always risk when you were on an adventure. Harry stepped through the door, and was greeted with a warm, bad-smelling, wet gust of wind on his face.

Ron squeaked in terror.

In front of them, far closer than any of them wanted, was a huge, three-headed dog.

"So that's what big meant," Harry said weakly.

"What should we do? There's the trapdoor, just like Oliver said, and...a harp?"

It was true, at the giant animal's feet was a golden harp, lying there apparently unaware of how out of place it was.

"I don-" Ron began to say something, but it was drowned out by the sudden eruption of his robes into song. They all paused, unsure of how to react. It seemed like incredibly bad timing. Surely a noise that loud would annoy the beast... They all, very slowly, very carefully, turned to look at it.

And watched as it drooped to the ground, its enormous eyes closing, falling onto one side as the music sent it to sleep.

"Oh." said Harry.

After a moment Hermione got a handle on herself, and she urged them to go through the trapdoor quickly. "Come on, hurry! We don't know how long before the music stops and it wakes up!"

They went into the trapdoor, each a little less confident about what they were doing, and refusing to think about how they were going to get out again.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Draco and Greg sat once again in the library, very aware that they were under the watchful eye of Madam Pince, who had coldly informed them that she did not give any second chances. That was why Vince hadn't been allowed back in. They wouldn't have admitted it, but both boys were somewhat grateful. It was hard for Draco to pay attention to Vince and focus on what he was studying at the same time.

The first book he'd picked up on his return was _Ten Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_, an expanded edition of the textbook that all first years had been required to buy. Draco was rifling through it interestedly. He didn't like plants much in reality, they scratched you and bit you and tried to knock you unconscious, but reading about them was quite enjoyable.

"Oh, see! This one," he said, stopping at a page and placing his finger on it. "Devil's Snare. Have you heard about it? Very useful, very dark. If you so much as touch it, it twists itself around you so that you can't get free. And if you move, it grips tighter."

"Sort of like quicksand."

Draco blinked."What is that? I've never heard of it."

Greg just smiled at him. "Never mind. If you haven't heard about it, it can't be very important."

"Well..." Draco caught himself. "Yes, that's right. Anyway, it has one big weakness, which is why I'd never bother keeping it..."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Hermione did a rushed incantation, and the coils of the plant that had twisted around Ron and Harry fell away. They dropped to the ground, brushing themselves off. "Lucky you pay attention in Herbology, Hermione," Harry thanked her.

Ron didn't say anything.

They went further into the passageway, not sure what they would find or even what they were doing this for. Harry had felt compelled, by his curiosity, by his love of adventure, by his boredom, even, to explore this forbidden part of the school. He supposed that he took after his mother in some ways. Hermione and Ron, they were here for different reasons. He was going to look after them and keep them safe here, as best he could. If Ron didn't drive him mad first.

When they found the next room full of winged keys, Ron refused to help them. They were able to catch the one they needed without him. Once they'd put the brooms back where they'd found them, convenient as they were, and were ready to pass through the door, Ron said, not even bothering to be quiet:

"I'm hungry now, and my arm feels bruised. I don't know why you two brought me down here."

It was too much for Harry to take. He turned around and walked over to Ron, grabbing his shoulder much too tightly.

"That hurts!" Ron protested.

"GOOD!" Harry shouted at him.

"Oh dear..." Hermione stood back, holding the bird-key safely in her hands.

"I HOPE it hurts you! Maybe you'll finally realise that what you're complaining about is NOTHING! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOUR BEHAVIOUR LATELY! Is it OKAY to talk to me, or Hermione, the way you have? We are YOUR FRIENDS! If we weren't we would have LEFT YOU BEHIND A LONG TIME AGO. YOU HAVE BEEN SELFISH AND INCONSIDERATE, and honestly it is very hard for me to be around you." Harry released his shoulder, and turned away, intending to put some distance between them.

"I'VE been selfish? I'VE been inconsiderate?" Ron shouted at his back. "WHO'S THE ONE WHO'S BEEN LEAVING ME BEHIND, SAYING HORRIBLE THINGS LIKE THAT, TAKING HERMIONE OFF WITH YOU AND LEAVING ME IN THE TOWER? ARE WE REALLY FRIENDS? FRIENDS DON'T ACT LIKE THAT, HARRY!"

"ARE YOU EVEN HEARING YOURSELF?"

"ARE YOU? YOU'RE in the wrong here!"

"When have I ever treated you badly? I never said mean things about you! I never spent time with Hermione that I wouldn't have spent with both of you! But you started acting differently, and I just got tired-"

"Oh, so we aren't really friends then. If you got tired of me." Ron said stubbornly.

"Would you LISTEN to me?" Harry was practically tearing his hair out.

"WHY SHOULD I?"

"Oh, I can't take this. Unlock the door, Hermione."

She did, without saying a word. Harry walked through it and she followed him. Ron finally came through with them – he didn't have much choice, unless he wanted to fly out past the huge dog. They stood together in horrified silence as the room lit up and they realised they were standing on a giant chess board.


	19. The Stone part two

**Notes - **This and the previous chapter have been edited. I might have jumped the gun a bit posting them without really checking them first. Ah, well.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Careful not to crease any of the pages, Draco slumped onto _The Chessmasters of Hogwarts_. He was bored. Very bored. Why else would he be reading a book as ridiculous as this? Were any of his teachers going to ask him which three headmasters were famous for their skill at Wizard's Chess? It was useless knowledge and he wasn't particularly interested in it either.

"I didn't think my study would be finished that quickly," he murmured into the page. There was always more to learn, of course. But what he really cared about they didn't keep books here for. He was going to become an Animagus, if it was possible, but Hogwarts didn't exactly encourage its students to attempt very dangerous, potentially fatal magic. Draco had of course left his books in his room, in a chest with a very large lock on it. There wasn't much point him going down to get it. The library was comfortable, despite its unfriendly staff. He didn't want to leave just yet.

He sat up suddenly. "Nothing interesting ever happens here, does it? It would be better if they would just let us have our brooms. I don't understand why first years weren't allowed to bring them. If you can't fly properly then you deserve to spend some time in infirmary. Like Longbottom, ha! You'd think he lives there. I can't believe Potter, pulling a stunt like that just to fetch something for him, and McGonagall makes him Seeker! He should have gotten detention, at least. Maybe expelled. But really, how irresponsible. He could have badly hurt himself." He rested his chin on his hand. "Come to think of it, where did he go after class? Was it Quidditch prac-"

"Draco!" Greg hissed at him. It was such a rare thing for him to call him by his name that Draco looked at him, his eyes slightly wide.

"A-hem." Madam Pince cleared her throat and gave them warning looks.

They decided to leave. Even if it was comfortable, it just wasn't worth putting up with staff who took their jobs much too seriously. It couldn't have been a difficult job, only minding some books. Pince reminded him of Granger. They both seemed much happier with books than they did with people. It must be a Mudblood thing. He would much rather read a book than put up with Muggles as well.

As they walked out of the library together, Greg said a very unexpected thing.

"You're much too interested in him, Draco. Harry Potter. It's almost as if you're in love with him."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"All right. I'll do this, but only because there's no other way out of here." Ron walked over to the black knight and easily took its place. "Harry, you become the bishop, and Hermione, you can go and be the castle."

Harry bristled at his words, but didn't say anything. He knew that they needed Ron to get through this room. Wizard's Chess was different to Muggle chess, so Hermione didn't know how to play. Sirius had tried to teach him in the past but he'd just never been any good. It was hard for him to put aside his anger at Ron but right now he had no choice.

They played in tense silence. It was Ron that finally broke it – not really surprising anyone, to complain. "I wonder how many of these rooms there are. Maybe they're endless. We could be stuck down here, you realise, until a professor comes to find us."

"We don't have to worry about that. Fred and George have the map."

"What map?" Hermione didn't know what they were talking about.

"And you just trust them to come after you?" Ron exploded. His friends stared at him in shock. "They play around! They're pranksters! They might pretend to be heroes but they're really-" Suddenly, inexplicably, he began to cry. "-n-not!"

Hermione took a step forward, but remembered just in time that she wasn't allowed to leave her square. "Ronald..."

"Don't worry, Ron, they _will_ make sure we come out okay," Harry tried to reassure him.

"That's not it!" he shouted, rubbing at his eyes. "You...they're so different with you..."

"What? Look, Ron, Hermione told me about it. You were upset that I was spending more time with your brothers than you. I'm sorry about that-"

"No! That's not it. Well, not really..." Ron dried his eyes and straightened up. "Horse to take castle!"

The black horse moved slowly, menacingly, towards to white castle that waited for it. It stopped. There was a moment of nothing. Then the pieces attacked each other violently, shards of black and white flying off of them and settling on the cold ground. They lashed at each other, not desperately, not emotionally, just because that was what they were meant to do. The castle crumbled and fell heavily. Another white piece was taken off the board. Thanks to Ron, they were winning this game. They had been right to rely on him.

"Then what is it?" Harry called over to him, as he moved forward. He wasn't angry anymore, had stopped being angry as soon as he'd seen that Ron was upset. "You need to tell me or I won't understand. We're friends, Ron. We can talk about this stuff."

Ron directed another black piece, and it tore into the white queen's last defence. He looked around the board, clearly thinking about the game. He closed his eyes. Sighed. Opened them again.

"I was never my brothers' favourite..." he began to explain.

"What?"

"...maybe it was Bill, or Charlie. Charlie's fantastic, he's a great brother. And we all love Ginny. She's a brilliant little sister. I wouldn't want any other one, you know? Er, you might not. She's a bit funny around you. Anyway, I wasn't like them. I don't do anything special. I can...I can play chess! I suppose. Not exactly award-winning stuff there. George and Fred, they do heaps of things. They collect bugs. They go exploring. They get in trouble. A lot of it. I mean, they're twins for one thing. That's already special. Because we were closest in age, when we were little we always played with each other. I really had fun then. I was a kid. Er. More of a kid. But I knew they didn't need me, because they already had each other. You understand?"

"I'm starting to," Harry said slowly.

"Yeah? That's good. I just... When they met you, they stopped asking me to hang out with them as much. And that was okay, don't get me wrong. You're mates, you three. I still got to play Quidditch or whatever with them when you weren't around. But at school it's different. They don't even talk to me anymore. They talk to you all the time. They're really important to me. They're my brothers. I just...really wanted to be important to them as well. And, and, I'm sorry that I caught you up in it. I just thought that it might not be so bad, if they had each other...if I had you as a friend as well. I'm sorry! I really am..."

"Oh." Hermione whispered. "I got it wrong."

"I'm really, er, very sorry, and it was stupid..."

"It was stupid," Harry agreed.

"Harry!"

"Yeah." Ron hung his head.

"But I'm happy you finally told me this. I like being your friend, Ron. And I can tell you now, your brothers love you. They're always asking about you – err, actually, maybe I should leave these things for them to say. It'll be...nicer...that way." He coughed awkwardly. "So, er, are we alright now? You're not going to go off insulting the other houses or trying to kill Malfoy?"

"Y-yeah, I mean, no, I won't do those things..." he sniffed and rubbed his arm across his face.

"You're crying!"

"I am not!" Ron said tearily.

Hermione put her hands on her hips. "And what would it matter if he was?"

Ron laughed at that, wiping away his tears. "Well, that makes this bit a lot easier, then."

"What bit?"

He took a solemn step forward.

They watched in horror as the queen hit him savagely across the head, and he crumpled to the ground. Hermione screamed. Harry didn't know what he could do. Ron's limp body was dragged off the board.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"I-I...in love? With Ha-...with _him_?" Draco could feel himself turning a deep red, could hear himself speaking nonsense, but he just couldn't get past the shock of what his closest friend had just said to him. For a minute, he forgot how to breathe. His heart was racing, like it was trying to tell Greg the truth itself, but if that was the case, he _absolutely _would not let it.

It took far longer to compose himself than it should have. Precious seconds. With his emotion clear across his face for every one of those. And in front of _Greg_, who knew him best, who he just knew would misunderstand!

"What..." His voice sounded feeble. His heart was still beating much too quickly. If he let it, his face would go instantly red again. This was ridiculous. Why was this happening to him? "What are you saying?"

Greg stared at him for a long time, trying to find something in his eyes. Which was just bizarre, right? There wasn't anything in them, _right_?

_Why in Merlin's name was he panicking so much?_

Draco watched with horror as Greg's brow furrowed, and furrowed more, deep lines marring his forehead, and then he looked away. With an expression on his face like he _couldn't _look at him.

"I'm not in love with him," Draco said clearly. There. That was enough.

Except it didn't look like enough. Greg shook his head painfully. "I can't believe you."

"It's true!"

"It's an utter lie! Think about who you're talking to, here." Greg ran his fingers through his hair, looking stressed. "Aside from your parents, I know you best, Draco. If it wasn't true you would have gotten angry."

Draco's hands curled into fists, his nails digging into his palms. "Well, I'm angry now!" he snapped.

Greg looked at him pityingly. "No you aren't. You're terrified."

"It's not true! It really isn't! No, Greg, really, this is a joke, right? You're toying with me, right? This is stupid! It doesn't make sense! I don't-I'm serious!"

At some point they had started walking again. When, Draco did not know. But they were nearing Severus. Just the sight of his godfather cheered him up immensely. He could rely on him. He would help him with this tiny, miniscule, stupid little problem.

A student ran up to him, some Ravenclaw girl. "Professor Snape, I was wondering... Have you seen Professor Quirrell around recently? I was meant to see him about our next test, but he wasn't in his office. It's kind of important."

To Draco's surprise and discomfort, Severus went very white. He sent the girl away and was about to leave when they stopped him. "Professor Snape-" Draco began to say.

"Not now, Malfoy. I've got something to deal with." Snape swirled his robes around and walked hurriedly off.

"That was strange," Draco murmured.

Greg nodded. He thought so too.

Draco was struck with worry for Potter. Bad things seemed to follow him around, it was likely he'd gotten caught up in something again now...but that was foolish, and irrelevant, and not something at all for Draco to care about. He was just thinking about Potter now because they'd just been talking about him.

Yes.

That was it.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

With much strength of will they left Ron in the chess room, worried but certain that the only way to help him was to get out. The next room had nothing in it but an unconscious troll, which Harry was very happy to leave well alone. When they walked into the next room, the found themselves trapped by magical fire and presented with a puzzle. Hermione made quick work of it, and it calmed her somewhat, being very much in her element. They wished each other luck, and stepped through two different doors.

What Harry found just past his was very confusing.

"Professor Quirrell?" he called out. It made sense, when he thought about it. He'd been walking ahead of them. The harp, the winged key had been bent, the knocked out troll... It was rather helpful of him to do those things. For one, Harry didn't know how he and Hermione alone could have taken on a troll. They were a lot bigger in real life than they looked to be in books.

The professor turned. He was probably tired from all the work he'd just done, Harry reasoned. His face wasn't twitching at all, the way it normally did. And when he spoke Harry could hear that his stutter had completely gone. Maybe he'd regained a bit of confidence from all this.

"Hello, Harry. I've been waiting for you." His eyes were chilling. But maybe they were always like that, Harry couldn't remember having ever made eye contact with him before.

"Ah," he said. "What's that mirror behind you?"

'Use the boy ... Use the boy ...' A terrible, whispering voice came...from nowhere. Harry suddenly felt cold, and very, very scared.

"Come here, Harry," Quirrell gestured to him menacingly. "Look into this mirror for me. That's it. Now, retrieve for me the Stone."

"What Stone?"

"You know. Of course you know. You must know. Why else would you be here?" Quirrell hissed.

It was hard for Harry to argue with that. He supposed that at the end of dark, complicated and pretty deadly tunnels you tended to find dangerous things. He wouldn't have ever suspected Quirrell, though. Was he behind the bad luck that had plagued him this year? Merlin, all of that had been right annoying.

Whatever stone he was talking about, Harry certainly didn't want him to have it. To think that he and his friends had tried to befriend him, seeing him as a shy new professor? This was something of a betrayal. He looked into the mirror, unsure of what he was meant to be seeing. There was him, yes, but no one behind him...? And then his reflection moved, somehow, and dropped something into his pocket. He felt a real weight there. He hoped it was this stone Quirrell wanted. Harry was sure that it wasn't something he should have.

"Master, he doesn't know anything!" Quirrell cried fearfully.

'Let me speak to him ... face to face ...'

And then Quirrell began to undo his turban, and it fell away, and he turned around. Harry was frozen by he saw, incapable of movement, of running away, of defending himself, of screaming. His blood pounded, and his anger and fear burned through him. He was like a statue made of fire. And he knew no way that he could save himself.

-x-x-x-x-x-

"Greg, you have to know that this is rubbish."

His friend didn't say anything. He might have, if there weren't people around. In fact it seemed as though a crowd was gathering. Another of the Weasleys' tricks, possibly gone wrong?

They moved towards the group. Draco realised that it had collected around the forbidden corridor. People pushed past him and he was surprised to see that Dumbledore was one of them.

"What happened?" someone whispered.

"I heard some first years went in there."

The blood rushed immediately out of Draco's face, and he pushed forward, not even sure what he was doing. People were in his way. He clawed to get past them. He didn't know where Greg went. Maybe he was behind him. It didn't matter. Not now.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Hermione would not relax until she had seen Harry lifted away by people that she knew and trusted, and Ron following carefully behind him, supported, again, by people that she _knew _and _trusted_. It was so hard to see Harry lying there on the ground – rather, slightly above it – his face dirtied and bruised, his arms cut, places faintly burned. What had happened? She should have gone through the black flame, and he through the purple. It would have been better than this. Sitting on the ground beside an injured friend, with another standing weakly beside them. She would remember this forever.

Dumbledore appeared. She didn't know how she felt about that, but the look of gentle concern her gave Harry went a long way with her. Still, she sat beside him, protecting him from everyone but the few she absolutely trusted, with Ron murmuring tired words of support, and saying far too many 'I'm sorry's than she thought they really needed.

And then crowds of students. People who hadn't cared about her or Ron this morning. Of course they had always felt for Harry. Some kindly, some with hatred or fear. She was beginning to understand that. It hadn't meant anything to her than Harry was famous. She realised now that it would. It would affect her to be friends with him. She would have to look out for him and protect him. She knew that she would do that. She could do that for him.

And then someone so unexpected throwing themself forward that Hermione did not for some time recover her memory of who he was. Malfoy, looking out of breath and marble white and dishevelled and flustered and angry and somehow completely, terribly sad. She was struck with an urge to hug him.

She told him to back off instead.

He didn't, but stopped where he was. She would realise later that it was enough for him to _see_ Harry, that he needed to know that he was safe in not _quite _the same way she did, but in one that was very similar. When she looked into his face, she wanted to cry. But he did not look as if he would.

"He will be okay."

It is a voice she's never heard before.

She nods, and then, to make it real: "Yes."

He looks suddenly lighter and almost falls over.

Ron says that he doesn't understand what is happening.

Goyle comes over to them, and he looks tired.

When Harry is carried off and Ron is taken carefully away, Hermione realises that she is tired, so tired, more tired than anyone, more tired than she has ever been. And it is easy for her to right there and then fall very deeply asleep.


	20. Grief and Comfort

This time of the year was always the hardest. The windows had been tightly shut and the curtains carefully drawn. A number of lamps cast small circles of light, adding to the comfort of the room rather than actually brightening it. Lily couldn't remember who had turned them on. They were working almost constantly in winter, but never broke, never faltered. She liked that, liked to have them around.

The fire gave the room warmth, and light that played across the red of the curtains, in places reminding her of her old house colours. Outside it was cold and wretched, her plants were it not for the magic that protected them suffocating under the thick snow. Inside it was comfortable and everyone that she loved was close. The clock on the mantel spun lazily. Portraits read quietly, or dozed off, and even the figures in the photographs seemed more subdued.

There were blankets strewn around and her husband had already made use of one. Lily could hear him gently breathing as he slept in front of the fire. If it was quiet enough and if the fire was warm enough it would send him to sleep in minutes, without fail. It was quite endearing and she felt somehow safer for having him there.

Humming softly to herself, she decided where she would put the plant that she was holding, and did so with great care. It was a variation on the classic rose, with full, dark green leaves and buds that were both smaller and fewer. One or two had bloomed already, perfuming the air with a sweet scent. When the weather turned violent she missed her garden. Bringing a plant to tend inside had made a good deal of sense.

Although, there was still the question of how to get the rose adequate sunlight. Lily frowned. Maybe it would be enough to give it as much time outside as it got inside. She hoped it would be.

Simon picked something up off a low table and toyed with it absently. He was leaning against a chest of drawers, evidently much more comfortable with her than he had been when she'd first met him, just a few weeks before. After a while the thing in his hands began to make a clicking sound. Lily thought that he'd meant to do it, but when she glanced over to him he was frowning. _Click...click...click..._

"That is very bothering, I think you should know. I would feel rather more settled if you would kindly get it to stop," the portrait of great-uncle Eadric said disapprovingly, in his deep, booming voice. Although he was, like James, a pureblood, he was a very open-minded one. Rather than caring about what was proper and improper, for him the world was divided into what he did and did not like. Apparently the Potters at that time had all been fairly useless, which was why he spoke honestly and with such authority. Lily liked him but never paid him much mind. So it surprised her when Simon flushed faintly red.

"Yes, sir." He moved the clicking thing around almost frantically, and looked intensely relieved when it finally went silent.

"Very good," Eadric nodded, not thinking anything of the young man's behaviour. He addressed Lily. "Great-niece, I surprise myself to say that the flowers are somewhat pleasant. Girlish things that they are...but if you can keep them from soiling anything, there are things I would like worse than to have them around. Right-ho, young James is still away on his nap, and I was only waiting for him to carry on with our discussion from yesterday... I will just pop away and give Rosemary a visit, do let the boy know if he shortly returns." And with a generous half-smile, he disappeared out of his frame.

Simon exhaled slowly.

"What was that, then?" Lily asked him, shaking off her jacket and sending half-melted snow onto the ground. It didn't worry her, there wasn't much and it was just water after all.

"What was what?"

"He makes you nervous."

"Why should he make me nervous?"

Lily gave him a look.

"Ahh. Well. He was a man to be respected. A pureblood who saved his own line from the stupidity of his relatives. The Potters have never been altogether wise, no offense. So he is to be respected." Simon shifted where he stood. "On the other hand, he's much too direct for it to be proper. There's not much that can scare a pureblood more than another who says exactly what he is thinking."

The rose would have to be watered daily, twice if it was warmer. The leaves looked healthy, though this was only the plant's first year. "So he scares you."

Simon didn't say anything for a little while. "I would never admit it if he did."

At that she couldn't quite hide a smile. Lily ran the backs of her fingers along the deep green leaves in a gesture of affection. She wanted very much to see the flowers bloom, and the plant become taller, and the leaves larger and more beautiful. If she could manage to work out all the little problems, this might just become something she would do every year.

Recognising that they had lapsed into silence, Simon looked over to the door and small stairway that led to the rest of the house. Somewhere beyond it Harry was in bed, asleep. He'd been home a few days already. The school term had ended. Even if it hadn't he would be here. Lily would have brought him home.

It was an odd question that she asked, but her concern drove her to ask it. "Are you okay?"

Simon looked at her and she looked back at him. There was a lot of sadness in his grey eyes. Lily just hadn't been able to ignore it. He hesitated before he spoke. "No."

"He's alive."

"Yes."

"He's still alive where you've left him."

"I didn't want to hurt him!" Simon lashed out, and looked immediately ashamed of himself. On the couch James stirred a little in his sleep. He went on, quieter. "It kills me that I had to be a part of it. I'm responsible for what happened. I..."

As struck with worry as Lily had been when she'd heard that Voldemort had gotten into the school, and that her son had been alone when he'd faced him, with no teacher or Albus or even one of his friends to help him...as devastated she had been when she realised that not even Hogwarts was safe for him...as much as she had cried softly to herself in the attic, even after Harry had come home and she began to feel again that he was safe...she had never, not once, not even slightly blamed Simon for the part that he had played in it.

She stepped over to him and held his face in her hands. He didn't flinch or look surprised. Although this was the first time _she_ had done this, _he_ was already used to her. Grey eyes looked painfully into green ones. "It was not. Your. Fault."

He leaned into her hand a little. It seemed ridiculous, if Lily let herself think about it long enough, that she was mothering a man who was only five or so years younger than her. She prayed to God that James didn't wake up just yet, he would completely get the wrong idea.

"Who knows how it would have happened if you hadn't gotten the teacher to go," she went on. "This way, Harry is alive, he is safe, he was not harmed, and he has learned, I hope, to listen to us when we tell him to be cautious. His friends...I know now that I can trust them. They are very loyal, even if they weren't able to be there quite when they were needed. And you... It does no good to worry. It's better just to be prepared, and happy when you can be." Lily moved her hands from his face, to his shoulders, and reassuringly down his arms before letting him go.

There wasn't any point in telling him that despite her words of wisdom she worried constantly. It occurred to her only when a glint of amusement appeared in his eyes that he would actually already know that. It was always very surreal, dealing with Simon.

He didn't say anything, so she went back to studying her rose. The buds that had already opened were pale reds and oranges, and she could see others tipped with cream. Her experience told her that the flowers would darken as they matured – as long as the plant got sufficient sunlight. If she treated it well it would be lovely. The cutting had been a good one, she would have to thank Mrs Musgrove...

"I remember it vividly, you know."

Lily turned back to Simon, who smiled at her sadly.

"Not from what I just saw. I remember that day as Draco. While he was down there I was doing these absolutely _stupid_ things...normal things. And then..." He closed his eyes. "It hurts that _that's_ what fixed in my mind. Not what his smile looked like that year, before everything started to happen. Not the way he said my name. I don't remember how he said it, only that it changed in second year... Not what he looked like flying, when he'd just started playing Quidditch for his house. No." He opened his eyes and his voice turned cold. "No, what I remember is him lying on the ground. _That _I can see clearly. I remember the way his hair fell, how pale he was, the dirt on his hands and one side of his face – the left side. Granger probably tried to pull him out herself. Hermione. I remember how _still_ he was. How wretchedly, horribly still."

He tried several times to talk, but could not seem to find the words. He looked at Lily, trying to communicate it with his eyes, his face twisted with pain. "I remember...what it _felt_ like. So clearly. Like my lungs were being ripped out. Like I'd been under Cruciatus for three hours beforehand. Like, like..." He had to stop for a moment or he would be overwhelmed. "I thought I was dying. If Harry had died, I thought that I would also. And I...do you understand, Lily? I _caused_ that. I never knew. But I caused that. It makes it worse, so much worse! I just-"

Abruptly Lily hugged him. With memories that hurt as badly as this one did, it was good to talk, but not good to dwell on it. He clung to her so tightly that she couldn't know if he was crying. She stroked his hair lightly with her fingers. "You felt that way, so young..." she whispered. When had Draco begun to care for her son? It seemed that, in at least one thing, she had underestimated him.

After a time, he settled. When he drew back his face was dry but his eyes were full with tears. He turned away from her to wipe them.

At once it struck her what she could do for him.

"Thank you," Lily said simply.

Simon stopped, and his eyes swung to her, large with surprise. Those two words meant everything to both of them. It had become clear to Lily that the past was something that couldn't be changed. It had to be accepted. Without even realising it, Simon had helped her deal with what had happened a million times better than she would have on her own. It was amazingly easy for her to help him in return. His appeared to be a grieving process that had lasted more than ten years. She spoke her forgiveness and fondness and acceptance and gratitude.

Determined to prove once again that he had the worst timing, James rolled over in his sleep and crashed to the ground, hitting the coffee table with the side of his knee and complaining loudly before he'd even really woken up. "Argh! Who put that there!"

Lily rubbed Simon's shoulder briefly before going to help her unfortunate husband. The blanket was tangled up around him, still half-on the couch. He blinked as he looked around himself. Not one to hold grudges, he leaned one arm against the coffee table. When he saw Lily he smiled. "Ahh. Good morning, love."

"It's nine in the evening," she told him shortly, collecting up the blanket.

"Oh? You must be right. I couldn't tell, with those curtains all tied up. Do you know who put this table here?"

She leaned in close and he smiled at her before they shared a kiss. "I'm not sure. Who put the couch where it is?"

"Well, I couldn't say, but I rather think that would have been me," James said, scratching his head.

"Then you deserve it." Lily took the blanket and flounced away.

"Lily!"

She tossed it over a half-empty bookcase, knowing that James wasn't going to chase her. The fire was just going to send him near-instantly back to sleep again. Simon was watching her amusedly. She gave him a world-weary look. He gave her one of commiseration. She smiled.

It felt odd to become close to someone so quickly. It felt odd to trust when she had long decided that it was something she couldn't afford to do. But then, their situation _was_ an odd one, wasn't it?

"The rose is lovely. _Rosa maxia_, isn't it? Have you been growing them long?" Simon made polite conversation.

"Do you really not know?" Lily eyed him with suspicion. He just shrugged. "No...the species is relatively new, only bred last year. One of our neighbours gave me a cutting from her plant. It was very kind of her, since hers isn't established yet and might react badly to cutting... A sweet lady, really. I have to remember to thank her..." For a moment she was lost in her thoughts. "Of course it's safer inside, but my problem now is working out how to get it the light that it needs."

"I see," Simon said, sounding completely unsurprised.

"Oh! I've just had an idea. Do you think... Yes, it should work. Would you help me for a moment? You do have your wand, don't you?"

"Will you be needing it?" he asked mildly, taking a wand out from somewhere in his robes.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'd like you to cast a spell. Do you know _Lumos?_ I'm sorry, of course you do... Well, we'll need a variation of that spell. I want to create a sort of scaled-down, magical sun-"

"Mmm," Simon said, looking rather bored.

"Lumos...Lumina...Lumenae...this might take longer than I'd thought. Of course it will, inventing a spell always does... Maybe I should be thinking about the sun part. Surely that will be easier..."

Simon waited patiently as Lily went through every sun-related spell she could remember. Finally she settled on Solis as a start to her new spell, reasoning that 'the sun begins the day, so it will begin the spell, and Solis, well, it's sort of like 'solace', which is a very nice word'. It didn't matter if that wasn't the sort of logic people usually used when creating spells. It just mattered that it worked.

"Alright," she addressed him. "Now, can you say _Solis Lumeni_ – I think that sounds rather good – and move your wand in a small circle and then in a large sort of oval – like the sun and its orbit, you see? I know the sun doesn't orbit anything, but it just sort of gets the point across. I'll try it with you. Hopefully it will work for one of us. Two wands are better than one and all that."

When it came to actually casting the spell, Lily noticed that Simon moved his wand a completely different way, and spoke the incantation with a different emphasis, and was about to berate him for it when a beautiful orb of light floated out of his wand and over to the rose. It was about the size of a child's hand, not blinding the way the sun was but still a little too bright to stare at. It was golden, and despite being bright itself only gave off enough light to make the upper parts of the leaves shine. It moved slowly in the air above the plant, circling it, not in the same way every time but with slight changes, giving the impression not of a planet's orbit but a fairy transfixed with the rose's blooms.

"That went well," Simon remarked.

"How did you do that?" Lily turned on him.

"Oh, come on. You would have worked it out eventually, I just saved you a bit of time," Simon said, covering his mouth as he yawned.

"If I could have done it anyway, you should have let me! How rude!"

"If I had, I would have been standing here for the next four hours." He looked her up and down appraisingly. "At least. And before you tell people they're being rude, Lily, you should make sure that you're not the one shouting. On that point, you really should stop that. It's impolite, unbecoming, and you're going to disrupt James' sleep. Merlin, that man is a bad riser-"

"Ohoho, so this is what you were hiding! You certainly got the worst of the Malfoys, didn't you!" Lily took a step back, shaking a finger at him wildly.

Simon's eyes flashed. "I don't know what you're implying about my family name, but you should consider yourself fortunate that I don't intend on taking it seriously. You're overwhelmed, clearly, by my remarkable display of magic, and ability to do what you yourself could not-"

"You already knew the spell! You learned it where you came from! Probably from me, even. That's cheating, Malfoy!"

"Lily, please. You're embarrassing yourself by acting like a child-"

"Who's the child? Here you're half my height and not even as powerful! My Harry's probably getting better grades than you – his house is beating yours at Quidditch! They'll get the House Cup too, just you see! You...you...snake!" Lily cried, and then blushed, as if she had just heard herself and realised how silly she was sounding.

Simon looked angry. Very angry. "Yes, I am a snake! In fact, I'll sho-"

"Mum?"

They both looked at the stairs. Harry stood there in his pyjamas, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. Their argument had undoubtedly woken him up. He yawned, widely, made quick note of his father still sleeping on the floor, and padded over to them. His face lit up in recognition. "Oh, Simon! Hello. When did you get here?"

It was amazing how much he resembled James, his hair sticking out and his glasses crooked and with that funny grin on his face. Whenever Lily thought there was nothing of her in him, he turned those big green eyes towards her and she couldn't help but smile. He was certainly their child. To think that their darling child had somehow ended up partnered with this man...she shook her head. How little sense love sometimes made.

Harry was distracted from Simon's answer by the rose with its own little sun. "Wow," he breathed. "Who did that? Can I touch it?"

Simon laughed, and Lily frowned at him. It was a very sudden change in mood. "Go right ahead."

He was too short, so he stood on a chair with both Simon and Lily watching him carefully. When his hand brushed the light, his fingers passed through it like it was slightly thicker than air. His laugh rang out, and he tried to capture it with his hands, but the sun passed slowly through them. "This is brilliant! How did you do this? Could you teach me? Please?"

Simon's eyes met Lily's. They had surrender written in them. "You'd have to ask your mother," he told him.

"Will you, Mum?"

"Oh, yes dear. We're using this so that the plant can grow inside. It might not work, but if it does we can have it with us when it's too cold to go out and see the garden."

"That's clever. You should have a moon as well," Harry said unthinkingly.

Lily and Simon promptly began a silent conversation behind his back.

_You're going to let me figure that one on my own, got it?_

_Alright, settle down. If you have any trouble-_

_I won't have any trouble!_

_If you do-_

_I won't._

_-you can just ask me. I can be very helpful._

_I don't think you can._

_That wounded me, Lily._

_Ha! You deserve it._

"Do you think you could make it bigger?" Harry asked.

"What? Why would you want to do that?"

"It would be useful, wouldn't it..." he said evasively.

"Oh no, Harry James Potter. You're not using this for mischief. I've got half a mind to take the spell off and put the plant back outside." Best not to tell him that she didn't know how the spell worked and had no clue how to undo it. That was something else Lily would have to figure out.

"Oh, don't do that!" Harry cried, grabbing his mother's sleeve. "It's alright, just leave it. We'll keep it here. The plant's very nice...it's a rose, isn't it?"

She had to stop herself from smiling when she was meant to be looking very stern. The number of times James had done very nearly the same thing...it was momentarily disheartening to realise that her husband needed discipline just as often – maybe even more so – than their son. But it was just his way, and it suited Lily to be the authority in their household. She wondered if Simon had to deal with his Harry in the same sort of way. Did they fight? Did they do these things together? Did they talk, or was there no need to? Did they see Simon's parents very often? It didn't seem like Simon was any less attached to them. Did they take trips? Did they talk about work? Did they go out with friends? Did they have any?

But in the same way Lily had decided to accept the past, maybe it was best just to wait for the future. It sounded profound, so it was probably true.

For now she just had to remember the Latin word for moon...

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Notes - **I have a challenge for you! I spent a lot of time trying to find a plant that fit the image I already had in my head, and nothing. So I made up a species of rose and rather lazily named it 'rosa maxia'...whoever can tell me where that name came from, or what it means, will get to name a character in this story. I don't mind if it's yours, or your friend's, or your dog's, or just the most ridiculous one you can think of to try and trip me up, it'll be put in here. Oh, as long as it's not too rude. Good luck! However many people answer correctly will get to choose a name, as long as they've made an effort and haven't just copied the answer. And if you'd like something other than a name, like a quote or reference or anything else, I'm happy to consider that too. 'Rosa maxia', come on!

To the person who came up with a use for _Confugeo_ last time, I haven't forgotten! It will turn up eventually. Just caught on roses and suns at present.

The spell comes from 'solis', the Latin word for 'sun', and 'lumen', the Latin word meaning 'the light of'. _Solis Lumeni _conjures up a small, sun-like ball of light. Useful I would think for potted plants and realistic tanning.


	21. Happy Birthday, Harry

George rummaged through his shelves, dropping more than a few things as he did. Marbles rolled around his feet, a small statue of a unicorn whinnied at him angrily, ink spilled out onto the floor – it was invisible, that was alright – and a couple of painted butterflies flew around the room as if unsure of where to go. He and Fred had gotten them at a party a few weeks ago – or was it months – maybe last year, and whose party had it been? Well, it didn't matter.

A ship-in-a-bottle began to fall and George, noticing it just in time, caught it before it hit the ground. He set it back on the shelf and thought again that it was a bit of a shame that underage wizards couldn't use magic outside of school. Dad didn't mind casting some little spells for them, but Mum was the one who was good at Charms and she always wanted to know why she was doing it – and very rarely, if ever, liked the answers that they gave her.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, reaching for something at the back of the shelf. "There you are!"

He took out a badly wrapped but very colourful bundle, which had been hidden away behind _The Mysterious Disappearance of Xavier Rastrick _and some quills too worn-down to be useful. George grinned at the package and slipped it under his arm so that he wouldn't lose it again. The butterflies were still fluttering about, rather forlornly, so he cracked open his window to let them out.

The room he shared with Fred was at the very top of the house. When he looked out the window he could see all the plains and hills surrounding the Burrow, and even a bit of the Muggle village just out to the west. There was a river close-by, with its own section of marches, and he could see nearly everything – except, of course, the house itself, and the chicken cages and pig pens that were on the other side of the house – and the garage as well, when he thought about it, and it was a little hard to make out the shed, which he could only see one corner of...

The butterflies flew out the window and down to the yard, where the rest of his family was gathered. Snatches of conversation floated up to him. He could hear Ron laughing and the sounds of Quidditch balls making impact. It was sunny outside, not too much of a breeze – or he might have felt badly for the butterflies he'd freed – and altogether a very good day. Harry had come to visit and brought his parents with him, since it was his birthday today. Already twelve years old, what a marvel! With all the stress the papers put him through it was a wonder he hadn't gone from eleven to forty.

George pulled the window down so it was only half-open, made sure he still had the package, and went out of his room and down the precarious stairs to the rest of the house. The floorboards creaked underneath his feet and he moved around piles of books and chairs and Muggle things that Dad was always leaving out. The hallway became more orderly, signifying that he was near Percy's room.

He stuck his head in and then knocked, just to be polite. "Oi, Perce, you coming downstairs? I think some of us have forgotten what your face looks like."

Percy was sitting on his bed, and scrambled – far too obviously – to hide some parchment behind his back, going red with embarrassment. His owl Hermes, a small thing that always looked suspicious – much like Percy himself, really – was sitting just behind him. "Can't you show any manners?" his brother said angrily. "Out! Now! And I don't want to hear you calling me that again! Bloody Oliver, I knew it would catch on..."

Rather than getting the door slammed in his face George left him alone. He was probably writing to a girl, although what kind of girl would write back to Percy Weasley he didn't know. George whistled the Gryffindor song loudly to annoy him as he went further down the stairs, jumping the last one and landing artfully in the living room. A banner hit him in the head as he walked through – _Happy Birthday Harry! _it said, and then in increasingly smaller print, _We all hope you have a very good day today and we're really so proud of you and you know that we'll always be here... _before the writer had run out of room. Mum, obviously.

There were streamers hanging everywhere, and a Muggle thing that Dad had brought out specially – 'it's a balloon, you fill it up with air and it...it...well, Muggles use them at parties' – and there were cups and plates all set out for lunch, and flowers at the table – they never had flowers at the table unless it was someone's birthday. When he went into the kitchen there were piles of homemade pumpkin pies and biscuits and sweets, and little cakes Mum had made with Ginny and iced lightning shapes onto, and jugs of lemonade and punch. Harry's parents had made his actual birthday cake and only they and Mum knew where it was, so that no one ended up eating it before this afternoon.

He grabbed one of the cupcakes, moved the package from one arm to the other, and went outside. Ron, Fred and Harry were playing Quidditch – well, Ginny was playing as well, but only as Keeper and only so long as an adult was watching. Loud clanking noises were coming from the garage, so that was probably where Dad had gone. Mum was fussing around as usual, around a table of food that she had set up for them, making sure that the Chocolate Frogs weren't going to jump away and that the chairs she'd brought out were arranged _just so_.

Standing off to the side were Harry's parents, so George went over to them, eating the cake as he did. The lightning bolt tasted delicious. "Look at that!" James was saying as he watched the game, smiling hugely. "Utterly fantastic! Fred was made to be a Beater, I tell you, but anyone can do it, and if he's got the brains to be a Chaser then Wood would be a fool not to use him as one. Look at that form! I'm glad we brought those brooms over today, Lily. Maybe we should keep them here, the boys don't tend to play at ours as often."

Lily laughed. "Well I've warned them enough times not to hurt the garden, and I don't think they like to be careful."

"Oh, no, dear. It's the space, the space! But really, I know that Nimbus 2000 cost a bit, and they're coming out with a new one soon, but doesn't it suit Fred so well? Better for speed, better for manoeuvring. Ginny's doing well with that Cleansweep 7, I wasn't sure because I haven't seen her play before – quite good, isn't she? A little nervous but holding up well. She'll beat her brothers one day, you watch. The Cleansweep, you see, is careful, it's considerate. It'll take you as high as you could even think to go, and safely, but it won't take you as far as fast as a Nimbus. It's a thinker's broom. I hear the Ravenclaws are using it this year, there you have it.

"I'd like to have seen George on that Comet 260, I really had a hunch it was the right one for him. Good for darting around, but powerful, you see? He's a Chaser through and through, he plays smart but fast. Ron had a turn with it before but it just didn't suit. Ron's a bit of a puzzle as a player – you get that from people who love to watch the game more than play it themselves – he's careful and he knows strategy but he doesn't stick to any particular one. He hasn't got the instincts. But he's good, of course he's good, he's learned against the twins. They just haven't come out with a model that I would really recommend to him. Not yet, anyway. Oh, George! We were just talking about you," James said with a smile.

"I think he knows, James. He was standing right there," Lily told him wryly. "Hello George. Are you going to join in with the game?"

George grinned at them. They were both a bit odd so they fit right in here. With her red hair Lily even looked a bit like a Weasley, and she acted so much like his mum at times that when a distant cousin had come round for a visit once, he'd thought they were sisters – which had, of course, annoyed both of them. James loved Quidditch even more than Oliver Wood did, loved mischief even more than Fred did, and loved his son more than either. It was extraordinarily hard not to like them.

"'Fraid not, I hurt my arm last week when I fell off the shed."

"Does it hurt? Which arm was it?"

"This one." George lifted his left arm. Then he looked at it intently. "Or maybe this one," he amended, moving the package and lifting his right arm. He smiled at her.

"Great job, Ginny! Great job! That was a brilliant save, Gryffindor will get you, I swear it! It was a good shot, Ron, but just look at how she caught it! Ten years old! Brilliant!" James called out excitedly.

"Is that a present for Harry?" Lily asked, ignoring her husband and gesturing at the bundle.

"Yes. Do you think he'll like it?"

Lily gave him the same sort of look Mum always did. But the mood was so good that she began to smile, and then started laughing. "I'm sure he will!"

"It's not dangerous," he reassured her.

"I should hope not," she said easily. "Do you want me to hold on to it so you can go get some food?"

Just as he was about to take her up on her offer, James made a noise of surprise and George followed his eyes up to the players in the air. The game was still going on, Fred performing a magnificent serve to Ron, who directed the Quaffle cleanly to the makeshift goal-posts, where Ginny was lying – flying? – in wait. It was Harry that looked off. His broom appeared to have stopped and was jerking up and down in the air. After a moment the others realised that something was wrong with him and flew over.

"Are you all right, Harry?" James shouted up to him.

"I don't think so!" came Harry's hesitant reply. Ron had come up beside him and was trying to get him onto his broom, but it flew up suddenly, out of his reach.

Ginny landed, the Quaffle struggling in her gloved hands. George handed his present to Lily and rushed over to help her return it to its box. As soon as they had done it – remarkably quickly, James must be right about her having potential – George asked to use her broom and ascended into the air.

There was no wind to be messing with Harry's broom – even if there was he was much too good to be blown around by it. It looked like a hex. But there was no one around who could have done it...his eyes met Fred's and realised that Harry's safety was their priority just now. They could think about the hows and whys later.

He held out his hand to Harry, and Fred, as usual, understood exactly what he was planning to do. "I'm going to need you to flip upside-down!" he told Harry.

"Are you sure?" Ron asked him nervously.

"Just trust us!" Fred said, as much to their brother as Harry himself. Even if something went wrong, there were adults all around to help them, so they were confident that everything would be fine. All they needed to do just now was get Harry off the malfunctioning broom. That was easy enough to do.

Harry took his hand and held it tightly, and George followed him as he flipped. There Fred took his other hand. They shouted together, "Now let go!"

Remarkably, Harry did.

It was Fred who got him onto his broom and took him down to the ground. George wasn't foolish enough to touch it, but he stayed with Harry's broom which was still jerking about. Ron gave him a questioning look and he nodded. It was okay for him to go with Harry. Ron smiled at him gratefully and went down to check on his friend, leaving George to look at the broom thoughtfully. He'd seen something like this before...

It struck him suddenly. In the game last year, when Harry had almost swallowed the Snitch! He looked around the pitch for whoever could be casting the spell, and saw movement in the kitchen windows. George landed so fast he almost broke his leg. "It's a spell! There's someone in the house, quickly! Mum! James, Lily, we can't use our wands, you have to be quick!"

All at once things began to happen. Behind him Harry's broom dropped straight to the ground. His dad came round the corner of the house with his wand drawn. There was a crashing noise inside. Mum swore, which startled George so much he almost stopped where he was. Out of the house ran a house-elf, who knocked into the table, ran in a circle and tried to get past Ron, who looked incredibly confused. A moment later a man followed him, shouting, "Stop, Dobby! You can't do this!" and threw himself at the elf, tackling him to the ground. Lily shrieked – not out of fear, but anger.

"HOW DARE YOU, SIMON, AND ON HIS BIRTHDAY!" she cried.

Mum, Dad and James advanced on the man, who was trying to keep the house-elf from escaping. Lily had her wand out but wasn't pointing it at him. Instead, her hands were on her hips. Ron looked shaken, Fred looked grim, Ginny was holding onto his arm, Harry looked surprised, and George didn't know how he felt, beyond happy that the table hadn't tipped over.

Having gotten the house-elf to stop moving around so much, the man looked up at all of them with an embarrassed smile on his face and just a bit of fear. "Ah, about this..."

"_Petrificus Totalus_," Mum cast.

The man dodged it, rolling over and pulling out his wand to counter the spell. "No, don't let him get free-" he shouted.

"_Stupefy," _Dad cast quickly.

The house-elf got up and ran around the garden. James went after it, grabbing it by the collar of its dirty tunic. He talked with it angrily, warning it not to Disapparate, saying that he would tell its masters if he did, and brought it back to where they were standing.

"Thank Merlin," the man said when he saw. He countered another curse, from Lily this time, who looked more than a little annoyed. "Hi Harry. Happy Birthday," he said brightly, deflecting another curse. "I brought you-" Deflect. "A present-" Dodge. Deflect. "I left it inside." Counter. "Didn't expect-" Deflect. "To see you today, so-" Dodge. "I'm really very-" Deflect. Counter. "Sorry about this!"

"Oh," appeared to be all that Harry could manage. "That's alright. Thanks for coming by on my birthday, anyway."

The man had gotten to his feet and had his hands out defensively. He made a point of putting his wand down. "Okay, can we stop this now? I wasn't the one messing with his broom. It was that idiot." He gestured to the house-elf. "I was trying to stop him. I know Harry. I wouldn't hurt him. Lily, please can you tell them?"

They all looked to Lily, who thought for a moment. "_Ventus_," she cast.

A great gust of wind spiralled out of her wand, pushing the man back slightly, ruffling his hair and robes. When it was gone he gasped for air. "Argh, take advantage of a man's weakness..." With his hair blown about he looked a bit ridiculous. George felt much less worried, and by the looks of things so did everyone else.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

They all sat around the kitchen table, although people kept getting up and moving around. There was more food than all of them could possibly eat and all of it looked wonderful. Everyone had helped with something; making the biscuits or icing the cupcakes or putting up the decorations. George went over to the radio and tried to find a good station, or as he put it 'one that doesn't play anything by Celestina Warbeck'. Fred tried to fix all the banners and streamers that people had walked into. Even Ginny was up and about, helping her mother with anything she could. Harry was glad. She was normally so shy around him.

He sat at one corner of the table, with his mum and dad on either side. Simon was across from him and next to Mr Weasley, and everyone else was walking around so much that even they couldn't really remember where they had been sitting. On the kitchen bench was a pile of presents and owls kept arriving with birthday cards, most of which were tossed aside. A lot of them were from people Harry didn't know, but enough of them _were_ for him to be excited.

It was a shame that neither Sirius nor Remus could be there, but Remus didn't deal well with all that was always going on at the Burrow, and Sirius had to be at the Ministry again today. Apparently because he hadn't told them he was an Animagus for so many years there were a lot of problems. But Simon was here, as well as everyone else that he cared about, and they had passed on their cards for him, so Harry wasn't too disappointed. It was impossible to feel unhappy at the Burrow.

There was a small explosion over where Fred stood. He looked abashed and told them that he'd forgotten about an Exploding Bonbon in his pocket. Soon after Hermes came flying out into the kitchen and up around the ceiling, a letter half-tied to his feet. As Ginny and Ron tried to grab it, Percy ran in looking flustered and coaxed his owl over to him. He apologised, red-faced, and sent Hermes out the nearest window. No matter how much they asked he wouldn't say who the letter was for.

Dad proposed to Mr Weasley that they keep the brooms he'd recently bought – a Comet 260, just like Draco's, a Nimbus 2000 and a Cleansweep 7 – in the shed at the Burrow, since they weren't going to be used as much at Godric's Hollow. Harry liked that idea. He wasn't interested in flying any broom but his own Nimbus 1700. That it was getting old just meant that he got to spend more time taking care of it. Dad knew that and had only really bought the brooms for the Weasleys to use – but it was hard to convince them to accept anything like that, even though the Potters had far too much money anyway and were very happy to spend it on their friends.

Mrs Weasley went around offering people more food. When she got to Simon she gave him twice as much and a big smile. "I'm so sorry about earlier. If I'd only known that you're an Auror!"

"Never seen you at the Ministry before," Mr Weasley said thoughtfully. "Your department's usually getting into all the other ones. Worked with Aurors this past week, going on all these raids..."

"I'm part of a special division," Simon told him seriously, but there was a very faint twinkle in his eyes. "The Ministry's answer to the Order of the Phoenix...it's all very technical. Not many people know. Not many people know that not many people know. I trust that you will keep this confidential."

Mr and Mrs Weasley gasped and nodded. They kept glancing over at Harry, who only knew that Simon hadn't wanted to tell them he was a Seer, and was feeling a bit confused until Simon smiled at him and gestured for him to get back to his cake, which he promptly did. The conversation went to Dobby, the house-elf who thought Harry was in danger and hadn't wanted him to go back to Hogwarts this year, and then to Mr Weasley's Muggle car, and whether Harry liked his cake or not – which he did, very much – and then to things that Harry wasn't very interested in. He stood up and let his mother give him a quick hug before going over to Ron.

"So you're staying over tonight, then?" Ron asked. When Harry nodded he smiled widely. "Brilliant! In my room or with Fred and George? Or Percy, you know, it's your choice."

After everything that had happened with Voldemort the three of them had ended up in the infirmary for a couple of days. The twins had gone to see Ron first, and they'd talked for a while and sorted everything out. Hermione said that they'd been crying. Having still been unconscious at the time, Harry didn't know, but he found that hard to believe. In any case, things were even better than they'd been before. Quidditch today, at least up until his broom had been misguidedly hexed, had been amazing.

"Yours, if that's okay," Harry said.

Ron grinned at him.

Fred came round behind him and clapped his little brother on the back. George put his arm around Harry's shoulders. "Up for a game of Exploding Snap?"

"Four's a good number for it. Mum might even let Ginny join in."

"You've still got that deck from last time, right Ron?" Fred ruffled his hair and pretended that he was in pain when Ron elbowed him in the side.

"Yeah. You up for that Harry? You've still got to open your presents."

"He can do that later. You boys go ahead," Lily called to them and waved them off with a relaxed smile on her face. She hadn't reacted as badly as Harry had thought she would to the attack by the well-meaning house-elf. She hadn't reacted badly at all. It was strange. But good, if it meant he could still stay at the Burrow tonight. He'd been looking forward to it for a month.

When they came back downstairs half an hour later with burnt hands and sooty faces, she just laughed and tried to clean Harry's with a napkin. When he was unwrapping his presents, and George's turned out to be an enchanted stamp that would forge any professor's signature, she was still smiling. When Fred's was a packet of sweets that would turn people different colours when they sucked on them, she didn't mind. When Ron gave him a book on Quidditch and a Vratsa Vulture's scarf, and Hermione's gift was a book on Transfiguration, and Mr Weasley gave him a rubber duck and Mrs Weasley gave him a sweater that she'd knitted, in Gryffindor colours with the word 'Seeker' across the back, Lily didn't say anything.

When Simon gave him a wrapped package and it turned out to be a book, she looked relieved. But when Harry read out the title, she froze suddenly and completely.

"'_How to Raise and Train Your Owl_'." At those words Harry's heart began to beat quickly. He looked up at Simon with hope in his eyes. Was it alright to get excited? Even if his parents weren't happy, when Simon took out a black velvet pouch and un-Shrunk the contents, and then went over to the window, whistled, and came back with an owl on his arm, he couldn't help but feel that way.

The owl was beautiful. It was large and white with speckles of black along its wings. When Simon spoke to it, it stretched them out. Harry was surprised by how long they were. As beautiful as it was, and as harmless as it appeared sitting quietly on Simon's arm, it must be a powerful creature. It was wonderful. Until Simon said the words, Harry wouldn't believe that it was his.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," he said softly.

Harry touched the owl's snowy feathers, and it rubbed its head against his fingers. It stared at him with huge golden eyes. He stared back, so eager for it to like him. After a time it half closed its eyes, shaking one wing like something was itching it. Harry ran his fingers up that wing, hoping to relieve it, and it cooed at him. It lifted its feet on Simon's arm, signalling that it wanted to move. When Harry raised his, it stepped over to it and walked along his arm to nibble at his hair. He laughed.

"She's heavy, Harry. You'll have to build up your strength before you can hold her for too long. For now use the cage that I brought you and study that book. She needs you to take care of her. She is not just a friend, she's a friend that depends on you to survive. This is not only a gift, but a lesson." Simon spoke to him but was looking at someone else. Harry didn't pay him enough attention to notice who. "She is not a person. Do not treat her like a person. There are things she can and can't do as a bird, that you and I can and can't do as people. Learn her limits and you will understand non-human beings better. And, unlike people," he smiled and rubbed the side of the owl's face. "If your owl loves you then you can be certain that you deserve it."

Finally Harry was able to wrench his eyes away to look at him. "Thank you," he said reverently.

Simon smiled. "You're welcome. Do your best this year." And with those words he Disapparated, to nearly everyone's surprise.

The Weasleys were all very impressed with the owl, and Harry was asked at least ten times what he would call her. His parents weren't as happy. There was a reason he'd never been given one before, they knew. But it wasn't a problem anymore. He was at Hogwarts year-round, and during the holidays Ron could take care of her. It would make sending letters home much easier, as he wouldn't have to worry about a school owl getting lost or not knowing where to go. He convinced himself that there weren't any problems because he so desperately wanted to keep her.

Her.

A name popped into his head, one that he'd thought was interesting.

"Hedwig. I'm going to name her Hedwig."


	22. Difference of Opinion

Remus walked quickly through the halls of the Ministry of Magic. His hair was wild. His hand trembled slightly. It was hard to smile at the people that he passed, but he did anyway. They looked suspicious of him. A witch glanced down to his arm and gasped. He covered it hurriedly, tucking it away into his robes, out of her sight and out of everyone's.

He smiled shakily at a pair of wizards, who didn't bother to lower their voices as they spoke about him. He didn't want to hurt them, just wanted them to stop. He walked faster. People kept talking. He clutched at his arm, and the stupid little wrist-band the receptionist had put on it when he'd come in. It was pink with five 'x's on it. Stupid thing. Ridiculous. Demeaning. Stressful.

A witch gave a small scream when she saw him. His heart was beating too quickly, he thought he might be sweating. They had confiscated his wand. He didn't feel safe. He walked faster, almost running, and turned into a bathroom. He leaned against the wall, clutching at his chest with one hand and at the wrist-band with the other. He was breathing heavily, almost choking.

He'd been at the Ministry for the last four hours, getting sent from department to department. No one seemed to want to deal with him. Last week he'd received a letter informing him that the laws concerning werewolves had changed, and 'as he came under the Werewolf Registry for Britain he would have to speak with certain relevant parties at the Ministry to find out just how they would affect him'. Not overly thrilled but willing to cooperate, Remus did.

His day had been hellish. In the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, going repeatedly from the Beast Division to the Being Division, and then to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, to the Administrative Registration Department, to the Animagus Registry, for some unfathomable reason, and then to the Beast Division again, and to the Department of International Magical Cooperation, which absolutely did not concern him at all, and a brief respite in the courts on level ten, which were quiet though just as busy, and where only one person fainted.

And it was all thanks to that Umbridge woman. Remus had an extraordinarily low opinion of her, who would have had him begging on the streets were it not for the support of his close, notably _non-lycanthropic_ friends. Merlin knew James had flashed his name about, gotten caught up in politics he otherwise wasn't concerned with, just to get Remus where he was. He was grateful, of course he was grateful. But it still hurt.

Having calmed down somewhat, he tried to fix his hair and robes and headed, once again, to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures on level four.

He couldn't take much more of this.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It was a beautiful day outside, which they could all see in the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall. There wasn't any need for the candles to be lit, so they floated around in the air, occasionally getting in the way of owls flying in to deliver letters and altogether looking a bit useless. The tables were piled up with food for lunch. The first-years tittered excitedly and made Harry, a second-year, feel very old.

"No, no. That's not how you do it. It's _Compositus Verto_, see?" A needle pinged against the table in front of Ron. The first-year he was trying to teach the spell to applauded, and he kept glancing at Hermione, looking very proud of himself. "Yeah, like that. With...circles...and stuff."

Hermione sighed loudly at him and went back to her conversation with a Ravenclaw who'd come over to their table. After a minute she sat down and the Ravenclaw walked away. "I've just been speaking to Padma-" she began.

"Yeah, we got that."

"-about the Chamber. The Ravenclaws have been doing some reading-"

Ron sniggered and Hermione glared at him. Harry might have too, if he wasn't too worn out from Quidditch practice to do much more than listen. Ever since the Malfoys had bought the whole Slytherin team Nimbus 2001s, Wood had been pushing the Gryffindors hard. They'd won the match against Slytherin – Draco wasn't a good Seeker, and that was that – but that wasn't the end of Wood's ambition. The Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match was in a fortnight and practices had just been bumped up from twice a week to every second day as well as doubled in length. His hands were getting blistered and he'd been stirring his soup tiredly for the last ten minutes.

"Well, the Chamber was built by Salazar Slytherin – you know that, Professor Binns talked about it – only the heir can open it – you know that as well, it was written on the wall when Mrs Norris was Petrified. Apparently it's been opened before, in 1942 – and you would not believe this, but-"

A girl shrieked further along down the table. Someone Harry didn't recognise was showing off a pair of spiders he had in a glass container. They had thick, black, terribly long legs and when the girl shrieked they threw themselves at the glass, battering it with their fangs. Ron shuddered and had to look away. Hermione frowned and went on.

"Anyway, you won't believe this, but the person who opened the Chamber in 1942 was – according to what the Ravenclaws have found – Hagrid!"

"You can't be serious?" Ron said, forgetting his fear in his surprise.

Hermione nodded. "He was a student here. He used a monster that was hidden away in the Chamber to attack several Muggle-born students. One person was killed – I honestly can't believe it. A prefect reported him to the Headmaster and he was expelled. They snapped his wand – the only reason he's here now, and not in prison, is because of Professor Dumbledore-"

"Rubbish," Harry said, putting his spoon down.

His friends stared at him for a minute. Ron slowly, hesitantly, voiced his agreement. "Y-yeah. It's rubbish, isn't it? Hagrid's great, takes care of all those animals, invites us round for tea sometimes. What would he have against Muggle-borns anyway?"

"It's just what the books say, Harry. Sometimes you can't know what people are really like-"

Harry gave her a hard look and she immediately stopped talking. He turned to smile at Ginny, who was sitting across from him. "Are you alright, Ginny? You look a bit sick..."

"Don't let Percy hear you say that," Ron warned. "He forced her to take a Pepper-up Potion last week because he thought she looked a bit 'peaky'. Sorry about that by the way, Gin. There's just no arguing with him."

"I-I'm...f-fine," stuttered Ginny, who had gone bright red and couldn't look Harry in the eye. He nodded. That was more like the Ginny that he was used to. He would have asked her what her classes had been like, but he didn't want to get her hopes up.

There was more screaming down the table. The spiders had thrown themselves at the walls of their prison so forcefully that the lid had come partially off, and now their hairy black legs were waving around in the air. Ron let out a high-pitched noise and clapped his hands over his mouth. The owner of the spiders was trying to assure everyone that it was okay and that they were harmless as he tried to close the lid so that they didn't escape. The spiders flung themselves about and Harry felt sorry for them. Rather than appearing frightening, he thought they looked desperate. They wanted to escape. He could understand that.

"If it's not Hagrid opening the Chamber now, who is it?" Hermione pressed.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Ron said, regaining control of himself. "Who hates Muggle-borns enough to want to keep them out of Hogwarts? Who buys into all that pureblood bollocks? And I don't think it's much of a stretch to say that the _Heir of Slytherin_," he looked pointedly across the room, "would be _in_ Slytherin."

"Malfoy?" Harry laughed before realising just what his friend was saying. "You think it might be Malfoy?" he said more seriously, eyes searching Ron's face.

"There's a lot of evidence, is all." Ron shrugged.

"What evidence-"

"He's got a point, Harry."

"No, he doesn't! Malfoy hasn't got it in him to do something like this. I would have thought just having the name 'Malfoy' would stop you from suspecting him – they're clever, and dangerous, not stupid enough to pull a stunt like this just to put some Muggle-borns in the infirmary for a few weeks, and not weak enough to use some faceless monster to do it! They live for recognition! You think Malfoy could keep quiet about this if he was behind it? It's ridiculous. There's no way."

"People are saying it's you," Hermione said quietly. "They're saying you're the Heir of Slytherin. We've got to prove them wrong. I want to think that it's Malfoy, because that would make this a lot easier. And even if you can't admit it, there're things to suggest it's him. Can you just think about yourself for once? We need to know for sure."

Harry looked helplessly at Ron, who gave him a sad smile. He'd heard the rumours but hadn't thought anyone was stupid enough to believe them. Unless he'd been doing these things in his sleep – which he wasn't even really getting, Oliver was working him so hard – there was no way it could be him. He sympathised with Muggle-borns, was best friends with one, had never hurt anyone in his life, had never wanted to. It was mad that people could think him capable of the terrible things that had been happening in the last couple of months. It hurt.

The screams rose up again. One of the spiders had escaped and was scuttling down the table, past baskets of rolls and potato salad and rice and slices of cheese. It almost fell into a tureen of the self-same soup that Harry had been eating, but miraculously drew itself up to the edge and ran around it. People shrieked and flinched away and tried to squash it, but it paid them no attention and made straight for the door, skittering out into the hallway. The spider left behind pushed once more against the lid, and then fell back, subdued. The boy looked relieved as he closed the lid and slipped the container away into the protection of his satchel.

"Remember those spiders we saw, trying to get out through the window?" Hermione said, her voice almost a whisper. The others nodded. They had both seen how the spider had made straight for the door, escaping something more than its glass prison.

"If it's...about Malfoy..." Harry sighed. "I know how we can find out. There's something called Polyjuice Potion-"

Hermione gasped. "Harold Potter, you didn't!"

"-if you drink it with someone's hair or...something, I don't know, you can take on their form for an hour-" He stopped speaking abruptly. "Hermione, what did you just call me?"

"Oh. Your name isn't Harold?"

"It most certainly isn't."

"I'm sorry. I thought it must be short for something. I mean, look at Ron...and Ginny, and Percy..." Hermione looked sheepish and prodded at her sandwich. "Yes, well, go on."

"Right. Well, George and Fred and I have been trying to brew it all year. It's a really difficult potion, I've no idea how they got the recipe for it. The first time we were just hiding it in a chest in their room, but Lee tripped over it and it went everywhere. The second time we were using a passageway they found, but then we, erm, lost it. We're trying it again now, using that abandoned girls' bathroom on the second floor-"

"No!" Hermione gasped again. "Really? What about Moaning Myrtle?"

Harry waved a hand dismissively. "It's fine. She's not too bad if you just listen to her once in a while. She likes the twins, keeps the potion safe for us when we're not around."

"You're kidding..." Hermione muttered.

"So what are you getting at? We use this potion to spy on Malfoy, see where he's going at night?" Ron asked curiously.

"Yeah."

Ron turned in his chair, leaning his arm on it and looking over to the Slytherin table. The students there were practicing hexes on Hufflepuffs foolish enough to walk within range. "Who do you reckon? Harry, I think you'd make a good Goyle. Look at those beady eyes. Not a bit of intelligence in them. Perfect! I suppose that makes me Crabbe, then. Hermione, who're you thinking? Parkinson? She's a treasure. Fawns around Malfoy enough, that's for sure. Or maybe Bulstrode? You know, I heard that she knocked-out a seventh-year, and that she pulled out a Mandrake without earmuffs on and it didn't affect her at all!-"

"Leave it, Ron. It takes a month to brew the potion, we won't be able to use it for another week and a half. And that's if Fred and George let us, they've been working on this for a while. For now, we've just got to keep an eye out. Right?"

Hermione nodded slowly. Ron grinned and nodded as well. Across the room Harry saw Draco laugh when slugs erupted from a Hufflepuff's mouth. Next to him Gregory Goyle was watching with a painfully stupid look on his face. Vincent Crabbe struggled with some bread and accidentally stuck it to Millicent Bulstrode's robes, who hit him so hard that Harry could almost feel it. Pansy Parkinson tried to drink pumpkin juice and stare at Draco at the same time, and it nearly ran all down her front, but Blaise Zabini stopped it with a vague smile.

Having saved his housemate from disaster, Blaise looked up and straight at Harry, with an expression of '_I know what you're about to do. I know everything._'

Surprised but refusing to show it, Harry looked straight back.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"_Expelliarmus!_"

From Severus' wand came a burst of scarlet light, which crushed into Lockhart's body, sending him flying off the stage that had been set up in the middle of the Great Hall. His wand – which Draco had long thought was more for decoration than actual use – went flying into the crowd of students. After a moment Lockhart picked himself up, swaying a little as he walked back onto the stage and talking all the way. The girl who had caught his wand held it up to him reverently, and almost swooned when he smiled at her. What an idiot. Gryffindor, of course.

"Yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do," Lockhart said boldly, trying to flip his hair back into place. "If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy. However, I felt it would be instructive to let them see..."

Severus gave him a murderous look, which was echoed by every Slytherin in the room.

"Enough demonstrating!" Lockhart declared. "I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me..."

This was the first meeting of the Duelling Club and Draco dearly hoped there would be a second. Defence Against the Dark Arts had been written off as a complete waste of his time, given that his first-year professor had been a stuttering lunatic incapable of even murdering Potter properly, and his second-year professor had just been immediately disarmed in a duel and had not only failed to mend Potter's broken arm, but managed to de-bone it as well. He would study under his parents while he was at home, but this was a chance for him to practice while at school, and demonstrate his superior skill to some Hufflepuffs that seemed like they were asking him to.

He felt for his wand, tucked away in his robes. It was ten inches, hawthorn, with a unicorn hair core. He loved it. He thought it looked elegant. It was light, easy to wield. Harder to hide, but would he ever need to do that? He imagined facing down the end of this wand. He imagined the feelings of terror and dismay. He smirked to himself.

"Mr Malfoy, come over here. Let's see what you make of the famous Potter," Severus said in his usual manner, but his eyes were warning Draco to act respectably.

Draco stood across from Potter and fought first to breathe, and then not to blush, and then to look as cruel and sardonic as he could manage. Ever since Greg had made those strange comments he hadn't quite felt comfortable around Potter. Not that he had to begin with, of course not! Greg hadn't brought it up again, and it was likely some joke he had made that Draco hadn't understood. Now whenever he saw Potter he had to work to control himself, feeling...embarrassed, oddly...and nervous...stupid Gryffindor-ish things that he really shouldn't be feeling and wanted quite honestly to be rid of.

But here it was. The chance to fight it out with Potter and be done with him once and for all.

Draco was determined to make Potter fear him.

"Bow to your partner!" Lockhart directed them.

The air between them seemed to crackle. Once their eyes had met it seemed impossible for them to break apart again, so they inclined their heads only slightly and maintained the contact. There was something in Potter's eyes...his very green eyes, had they always been that colour? It must be the light of the candles playing on them. His glasses were still ugly. They looked to be the same pair he'd been wearing all last year. Old and ugly, and Draco still wanted to snap them. And his lashes were sort of long, like a girl's...and that mangy hair of his was falling across his face, you could hardly see his scar, the scar that had so many of the first-year Slytherin girls pining over him. He really didn't deserve the attention, he wasn't anything special, although his eyes were sort of...Slytherin green, and were somehow very deep, so Draco didn't feel at all strange about staring into them for as long as he had. And Potter hadn't faltered, and just kept staring back, so it must be fine for him too...

If he stepped in closer, Draco thought he might be able to see himself reflected in Potter's lenses, and it was in that moment such an appealing thought that he rather thought that he might do it. It would be so interesting, because they looked so different. Was that a freckle? Faded but definitely there. He must get a lot of sun, with all the Quidditch practice his captain had put him through this year, and his family seemed like the kind to spend time dirtying themselves outdoors. Just like that, so different. Draco didn't tan at all, he just went red and had to magic away the sunburn as soon as it appeared, or else look dreadfully unattractive for days afterwards. It was so strange the difference that breeding made, freckles and bad vision and unendingly bad hair. It just reminded Draco why he should never think to dirty his line by marrying anyone who wasn't a pureblood.

Potter's eyes narrowed and Draco almost blinked, he was so startled.

"When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponent – only to disarm them – we don't want any accidents. One...two..."

Without thinking, Draco brought his wand above his head, like a whip, and cracked it at Potter, intending to cast some low-level jinx. Too late he remembered the incantation, but Potter stepped back anyway, apparently hit with the force of his will. Eye contact was broken. Shame and suspicion crept in. Potter hurled a Tickling Charm at him that brought him to his knees. Enraged, although he was laughing, Draco hit him with _Tarantallegra _and began to laugh genuinely at Potter who was dancing around, looking extremely irritated.

"_Finite Incantatem!_" Severus shouted. All around the room students were dazed, injured, even piled on top of one another. By comparison they'd done quite well with Draco on the floor with a sore stomach and Potter standing up, his feet likely smarting.

Perhaps that was why they were chosen for a demonstration on how to block unfriendly spells. They were positioned at either end of the long stage that Lockhart had earlier flown off of. As the bumbling professor showed Potter how to block, Severus stepped over to Draco and whispered in his ear: "Use the spell I taught you. Potter will be shaking in his boots." He stepped away, apparently thinking that was that. Draco smirked and raised his wand as Lockhart began a countdown.

"Three – two – one – go!"

"_Serpensortia!_" Draco shouted, barely registering his godfather's cries of dismay. From the tip of his wand floated great, quick clouds of black smoke, which took the shape of a snake and slithered onto the stage, hissing wildly. He would have grinned, but Slytherins didn't do that. Potter would finally understand that he wasn't one to be toyed with...however he was doing it.

Students fought each other to get further away from the stage. Most were upset, or frightened, or worried, or dismayed...

But Potter was none of those things.

He looked...

Appreciative.

Draco watched him as the hand with his wand went to his side, and he took confident, careful steps towards the hostile creature, his green – yes, they were green, endlessly green – eyes bright and curious, his back straight so he seemed taller, his face calm so he seemed more powerful. His mouth opened and he began to speak the language of the snakes, which Draco had never heard in his life but innately knew, and wished so much to understand. The snake swayed in front of him, hissing in return, and allowed Potter to approach it and touch its head and neck. It curled up around his arm, lashed its tongue at his skin affectionately, and Draco knew that his face was bright red, and that he had dropped his wand at some point and didn't know where it was anymore, and that his heart was beating so quickly that for the second time in a year he thought he might die from it, and breathing suddenly didn't matter anymore, because all that mattered was that he could see this and hear it and nothing else was important.

The spell was broken by Severus, who grabbed him by his robes and nearly threw him off the platform, where Greg was there to take him away. Draco's wand was stuffed into his hand and he thumbed it absently, straining to look back at Potter and see what had happened. People were whispering and talking to each other, and Draco heard 'Parselmouth' and 'the heir' over and over. They sounded angry. Draco didn't know how they could sound anything other than amazed.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Notes - **Oh, my favourite book and with this chapter I'm already halfway through it! Such a shame, but I'm happy to be moving it along.


	23. Polyjuice Potion

Whenever Gregory felt he had eaten enough, he had to eat at least two platefuls more. Christmas was proving difficult, with Vince cramming things into his mouth so quickly and joyously that he could hardly keep up. It could not be helped. The Malfoys were dealing with incessant inquiries from the Ministry and as a consequence Draco's parents had encouraged him to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays. Though Gregory would have preferred to spend Christmas in the relative comfort of his own home, the only place he was able to act naturally, it was not possible for him to leave Draco alone at school. Certainly not with Blaise and Harry both taking such an interest in him. At least it was safe for him to assume that Draco was not likely to be Petrified or killed, as his blood was purer than was almost believable.

His interest in Harry Potter had unfortunately continued into their second year. There were only a handful of students and staff at the Christmas banquet, with most having returned home for the holidays. Aside from a tense seventh-year who was about to be disowned by his family they were the only Slytherins who had remained. With nothing going on around him, it was so obvious that Draco was watching Harry that the boy himself kept looking over at them. After his near declaration of love when they had found Harry injured and unconscious, Gregory had stopped kicking Draco in the shins every time he acted inappropriately. All he could do was warn his mother, who had looked quite amused.

It was somewhat troubling.

But it could not be helped. They would let Draco fawn over Harry until it was no longer excusable. Maybe he would exhaust his feelings and start to act more dispassionately. Gregory hoped for that. It would be easier.

"Mother sent me so much this year there were three owls to carry it all! One of them almost passed out when it landed – our youngest, you understand, Malfoys could never be accused of abusing their animals – she must have had a reason to send it. Those three just for her gifts! Father is keeping his at home for now, he says it's too – are you listening – too dangerous to have at school! It's marvellous. I wonder if it's an heirloom, or something that he bought for me...he's dreadful at writing letters, but Father does know my tastes best – as a Malfoy man, of course. On the other hand, Mother writes so well, and so often. Without you, and Mother's letters and Father's gifts, I think I might have gone mad here."

Draco was clearly making an effort not to look at Harry, trying to focus instead on conversation and the food in front of him. He was blatantly unsuccessful. Glancing at him occasionally, Gregory was reminded of how the girls acted in Professor Lockhart's classes. "It's just so tedious," he went on. "Aside from Severus, all the professors are either incompetent idiots or biased towards the Gryffindors – who have, as I'm sure you've noted, been the ones to break nearly every one of the school rules in the last year alone. And yet they hold on to that 'brave and honest' reputation...it's sickening. I don't want to think what Pot-"

He broke off, went faintly red and looked at Gregory worriedly. "They're just...it's ridiculous, isn't it? The number of times they've gotten themselves in the infirmary – I swear Longbottom's in there every second day, and P-" Draco stabbed a few times at his chicken. "They're completely overshadowing the Hufflepuffs. You'd think we weren't doing enough to put them in there. But Davis got four of them with the Horn-tongue Hex last week – it's really all she's good for, and I can't say it's not worth having her around just to see their faces when their tongues start swelling - it says something that none of the professors have even told her off for it, let alone given her a detention. Too worried about this Heir of Slytherin fiasco. Dumbledore's fault. Mad as a hatter and too old to be of use to anyone – not to mention he favours Po-"

He had been talking this way ever since Gregory had suggested that he might have feelings for Harry. As much as he appreciated the effort, Gregory did not feel he was the one Draco needed to convince. At this point he was only condemning himself further. That might be why Narcissa had only smiled. Draco was as transparent as Vince. Much more intelligent, but unfortunately in love with completely the wrong person.

Gregory tried to put an entire tart into his mouth, making a show of it for the ten or so people that were there to see. To his satisfaction Ronald nudged Harry and pointed at him, laughing. Harry did not pay him much attention. He was not one to laugh at other people. From what he had seen of him, Harry was kind, considerate, patient and just a bit reckless. The complete opposite of Draco, who only minded the people he cared for, got jealous and worried easily. Considering everything Gregory didn't think they had a chance. Their families, their houses, their shared gender, their personalities, their apparent lack of shared interests...by harassing Draco he had thought to avoid a huge mess of hurt feelings and misdirected anger.

A snow-white owl flew into the Great Hall and landed at the Gryffindor table. It was Harry's and had been coming in practically every hour to deliver and carry off messages, likely to his parents. Earlier today it had swept in grandly with a brightly coloured scarf in its talons, and Harry had put it round his neck as soon as he got it, even though he was already wearing a knitted jumper he looked to have gotten from the Weasleys' mother, judging by the way they were all wearing similar ones. He was probably getting warm. He wondered how long it would be until Draco noticed and fretted about it.

"I'm sure you've noticed how Granger's the only Mudblood who's stayed back this year. They're all too frightened, I imagine. Run back to their Muggle parents and boring, electric lives. No flying, no magic, no house-elves – their photographs don't even move, can you believe that? And their portraits just sit there doing absolutely nothing. They have televisions, but that's just more Muggles talking to them about Muggle things – like fishing, and golf, what a waste of time-"

The Weasley twins stood up, waved to the staff table and headed out. After a minute Harry, Hermione and Ronald did the same. Draco trailed off, following them with his eyes. Once they were gone he fidgeted absently with his food for about ten minutes before leaving himself. Gregory was completely unsurprised.

It was another fifteen minutes before Vince sat back, having polished off almost two entire Christmas puddings, with the stupid smile on his face that mildly irritated Gregory, because it usually meant him a good deal of trouble. In this case it meant a serious case of indigestion. They were the only ones left in the Great Hall and he could hear his own footsteps as they walked out.

Experience told him there wasn't any point in trying to make conversation with Vince. A grunt from him was generous. They walked in near-complete silence, only footsteps and laboured breathing and the quiet murmurs of Harry and Ronald up ahead. Gryffindors seemed to think that hiding behind a suit of armour made them invisible, when in fact it just made them look rather silly.

He noticed, as he was no doubt meant to, the chocolate cakes sitting at the end of the stairwell. For a moment he wondered whether or not to eat one. Not doing it would be suspicious, but doing it when the cakes were clearly drugged might put them, or Merlin forbid, Draco, in a bad situation.

It was not hard for him to connect this with the potion Myrtle had warned him was being brewed in her bathroom. Polyjuice Potion – used to take on another person's form for an hour. It was not hard for him to realise that the Gryffindors wanted his and Vince's hairs. It was even less hard, in fact it was quite easy, for him to guess that they planned to use them to find out if Draco was the Heir of Slytherin.

Utter tosh. Draco was the heir as much as Harry was. If he had been able to cease his charade and speak to them, Gregory would have advised them to look beyond the obvious. Which was what everyone else had done. Found someone to blame so that they could feel safer. If they just asked the right questions, chances were they'd get the right answers...

But for Gryffindors trial and error seemed to work best. And this was, indirectly, to Draco's benefit. As long as he was not harmed Gregory didn't see that anything bad could come out this.

He took the cake and ate it. His world went quickly black.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Crabbe and Goyle fell heavily to the ground, bits of cake at the edges of their mouths. The Sleeping Draught had worked almost instantly – Harry reminded himself again never to seriously annoy Hermione.

It took a fair bit of effort to get them into a nearby broom cupboard. They were even heavier than they looked, and Goyle was taller than both he and Ron, so they had to lift him up together and accidentally bashed his head on the low doorway.

"No worries," said Ron, panting from the effort. "Not like he's got any brains in there anyway."

Ignoring the little voice in his head that told him he was doing the wrong thing, Harry pulled out a few of Goyle's thick black hairs and held on to them tightly. When he moved a bucket that would have gotten in the way of the door, he noticed the other boy's feet. "We're going to need their shoes as well. Ours won't fit."

"Good thinking." Ron grimaced at the stubby brown hairs he'd gotten from Crabbe, but had the sense not to put them in his pocket and held onto them even as he wrestled with his shoes.

Once they had everything they needed they stood back. Harry moved a broom that had settled on Goyle's face. He felt guilty just for knocking him out and stealing his belongings and pretending to be him, he didn't want him to wake up with marks all over his cheek. Ron gave him a questioning look but shrugged after a moment and they closed the door together. Then, clutching at the hairs they'd collected, they ran up the stairs to the girls' lavatory on the second floor.

Fred was leaning against the basins, chatting absently with Moaning Myrtle, looking quite comfortable despite the odd circumstances. George was standing nearer Hermione, watching her prepare the potion for them to drink with a small frown on his face. They nodded in greeting at Harry and Ron. Myrtle let out a vaguely cheerful-sounding wail, and swept off into one of the toilets. Hermione, when she noticed them, snapped her head around and asked breathlessly: "Did you get them?"

"Yeah," was all they could manage, and they knelt down next to Hermione, still holding carefully onto the hairs. George had warned them repeatedly that if the hairs got mixed up or they used the wrong ones some really bad, really painful things could happen.

"Good. And I sneaked these spare robes out of the laundry. You'll need bigger sizes once you're Crabbe and Goyle," Hermione told them, stirring the violently bubbling potion a few more times.

Fred held up the robes in question with a smile and a wink. Once they'd found out what it was for, he and George had agreed to let them use the Polyjuice Potion they had been brewing, as long as they were allowed to watch the transformation. They were treating it as a 'trial run' and, given that the potion was meant to cause excruciating pain, Harry wasn't surprised that they seemed a little grateful for it. Behind Fred's smile was curiosity, but behind George's was tense concern.

It didn't exactly inspire much confidence.

Hermione filled three glasses with the potion. It was so thick that it oozed, and was an unappetizing grey colour. Nervously, she told them to put their hairs into the glasses. As she slipped the small vial containing Millicent Bulstrode's out of her robes, George stopped her.

"Sorry. Can I just take a look at that?" he asked.

Her hand had been trembling and there was a bit of fear in her eyes. A desire to get it right beat out a desire to get it over with, and she handed the vial over to George. He examined it carefully. Fred came up behind him and looked into it as well.

"Hate to say it, Hermione, but I think you've got the wrong one," Fred said seriously.

"What? But I got that from Millicent herself, from her robes when we were duelling-"

"It's the right colour but it's too short," George speculated. "Looks like..."

"...a cat's hair," Fred finished.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, pale and nervous.

They nodded together. "It's got that white bit at the end, see," George said quietly to his brother.

"Yeah, that's not right. You're better not using it, Hermione."

"B-but..." Hermione looked like she wasn't sure how to feel. She was probably relieved, that they'd caught her mistake and that she wouldn't have to drink the potion, but upset that she'd made a mistake in the first place.

George handed the vial back to her. "The potion's only designed for use by humans. Unless you're absolutely sure it belongs to the Slytherin girl, don't use it. If you get it wrong, at best you'd end up in the infirmary for a couple of days."

"At worst, you'd be spending some time at St. Mungo's," Fred said.

Harry and Ron held onto their hairs even more tightly.

After a minute of thought, Hermione sighed and went back to the potion. "What do we do with the leftovers, then?"

"Oh, we'll take those!" said Fred, brightening instantly.

"Just bottle them and we'll save them for a...special occasion. Halloween or the like."

"For now, though...put your hairs in, gents!"

When they did, the potion in their glasses began to bubble and froth, emitting unpleasant smells and changing rather unattractive colours. Harry hadn't been keen to drink it as it was, but now that it had turned an ugly sort of brown colour he really wasn't looking forward to it. Ron's went a darker, murkier brown, and it was so awful he looked at Harry's with a tinge of jealousy.

"Any way we can change that?" Fred murmured to George.

"I'm not sure. Everything seems to say that the potion acts like the essence of the person, so unless we use it for someone really nice..."

"Could you please be quiet?" Hermione said sternly. They smiled her and as a concession began to whisper instead.

The boys got to their feet, holding their glasses and looking at them wryly. "You ready for this, mate?" Ron asked.

"Yeah. Let's do it." Harry smiled back at him, and together they pinched their noses and downed the potion.

All at once he could feel his body splitting apart and stretching and changing, the pain so intense it felt like Professor Lockhart had vanished _all_ of his bones and he'd been forced to swallow some Skele-Gro to get them back again. Hair poked through his skin like needles and he felt every one of them. He resented Goyle like he never had before for being so much taller than him, as his shoulders widened and his back lengthened mercilessly. There was no relief to the pain, it just went on. He fell to his knees and it was some consolation to see that Ron had done the same. It was horrific to watch his friend's skin bubble and his features rearrange themselves, so Harry closed his eyes, just as his eyelashes shortened and thickened and his fingers popped out like a shirt that had been too tightly buttoned.

When it was finally over, Harry looked up at his three curious friends and regretted not having changed into the larger robes beforehand. His had burst in several places, despite being a bit big already, and his now thick legs were sticking out at the end. He stood up with surprising ease and grabbed the robes that George was holding out to him, ducking quickly into a stall. A minute later, he and Ron – or, rather, Crabbe and Goyle – were standing in front of the twins undergoing inspection.

"Amazing. You could forget that they're actually Harry and Ron underneath all that. And you don't need your glasses, Harry?" Fred walked around them and looked them up and down.

"No," Harry answered a bit impatiently.

"His voice has changed, too. I thought we might need another charm for that, that's useful," George noted.

"I don't mean to be rude, but this does only last an hour," Harry pointed out.

Ron shifted awkwardly where he stood. Hermione was staring at him with horrified fascination.

"Oh. Right. We'll just ask you some questions later."

They checked their watches against Hermione's and she waved them off, staying behind to bottle the remainder of the potion. The twins escorted them quickly down to the dungeons. They took them as far as they felt comfortable and gave them directions for the rest of the way. Harry and Ron stood numbly as they said their goodbyes.

"The password's _pureblood_. Classic Slytherin. Just speak it to the wall, if you've got the right one you'll know." Fred clapped them encouragingly on the shoulders.

"Good luck," said George more softly, "and be careful."

And with that their guides were gone. Although he had been in the dungeons a few times before, Harry had never taken a risk like this and had certainly never set foot in the Slytherin common room. When Severus found out about it he would have a fit. It was all very exciting, but intimidating as well. There were many ways this plan could backfire. Crabbe and Goyle escaping their cupboard was the least of them.

He put on a brave face for Ron, who had to be reminded more than once not to look scared out of his mind. Once they stepped into the common room and found it completely empty, he did a lot better. Slytherin Dungeon was vastly different from Gryffindor Tower. The furniture was all black leather, uncomfortable looking sofas and low, rigid tables. There wasn't a bookshelf to be seen, but there were books around the room, so neatly placed that Harry wondered if they were just for decoration. Green light filtered in through huge windows that looked like mouths. The walls were elaborately carved stone, meant to look elegant but coming across as grotesque. There were ancient vines climbing one wall and Grecian columns leading up to the unsettlingly tall ceiling. The stairs were wide and made of stone, so unwelcoming that Harry realised, looking at them, why Slytherins smiled so rarely.

"Bloody hell," Ron breathed, and then clapped his hands over his mouth. He glanced about himself and then relaxed. "That's right. Mum's not here, is she."

"I really hope not," said Harry. "Come on, Malfoy must be in his room."

It was pure luck that the first door they tried was the right one, but since there were so few students around it probably wouldn't have mattered anyway. The room looked much like theirs, with five large beds arranged in a half-circle against the wall, except the wall was stone, and the beds were made of dark wood, and everything was a bit too tidy. There were Slytherin banners across the walls and the curtains were a rich, deep green. Draco sat on the middle bed, letters scattered around him, reading one of them. He looked up when they opened the door.

"I was just going to look for you," he said with a smile.

Harry was surprised at the affection he was so openly showing. He had thought in the past that Draco must be lonely, with Goyle and Crabbe being the only two in his house he seemed to genuinely trust, and he had thought that more because they seemed very stupid. It was...relieving.

Then the smile turned to a smirk and Draco gestured for them to join him. "Come and look at this. Father's just sent it to me. It'll give you a laugh, it's too funny."

Ron sat stiffly next to Draco but Harry stayed standing. There wasn't enough room on the bed for the three of them. Draco didn't seem to think anything was strange and handed him a newspaper cut-out, looking gleeful.

-x-

_ENQUIRY AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC_

_Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, was today fined fifty galleons for bewitching a Muggle car._

_ The car, which had been enchanted to fly and turn invisible at the push of a button, was found and dutifully reported by Mr Lucius Malfoy, who is an associate of Mr Weasley at the British Ministry of Magic and is calling now for his resignation._

"_In the wrong hands it could have been used with potentially disastrous consequences," said Mr Malfoy, no doubt referring to Mr Weasley's seven __young children. "Weasley is clearly unfit to draw up our laws and his ridiculous Muggle Protection Act should be scrapped immediately."_

_ Mr Weasley was unavailable for comment, although his wife told our reporters to clear off or she'd set the family ghoul on them._

-x-

When he read it Ron's hands clenched into fists, but Draco didn't notice.

"They deserve it. The Weasleys think they can do anything, no matter how stupid or dangerous it is, as long as they're all there," Draco said in a voice was filled with so much anger that Harry was startled. "You'd never know they were purebloods, the way they behave. You saw how one of them drew on me last year. I've been waiting to get my own on him, and I was thinking that I could get it through his family... You know Gryffindors. So selfless." He spat the words out and Harry physically drew back. Draco looked at him questioningly. "Are you alright, Greg?"

Harry didn't know how to respond, so he just nodded.

"You too, Vince. What's up with you today?"

"Stomach ache," Ron grunted.

"Go up to the hospital wing if you have to. None of us need a repeat of last week," Draco rolled his eyes at Harry, who honestly didn't know what to make of it. He sighed and pushed the letters around on the bed, leaning back and holding the one he had been reading over him. "Mother hasn't said it, but she's worried. I think that's why she sent me so many owls this year. She expects me to send a letter back for each one I receive – it's a way of making sure I'm okay, and that our mail is still getting through. I didn't think I would, but I'm running out of things to say." He laughed oddly.

Harry and Ron shared a look. Was Draco suggesting that he wasn't behind everything?

"The heir..." Harry started to say and trailed off, unsettled by the unfamiliar sound of his voice.

"You know, I'm thinking of writing to her about that," Draco said and they both leaned in a little. He sat up suddenly and they pulled back. "It has to be Potter. There's no doubt."

For a moment Harry was so surprised that he didn't register exactly what Draco had just said. Then it all came crashing in. He remembered how readily he'd defended him, everything he had said to Ron and Hermione, so convinced of his innocence when all he'd really gotten from Draco were insults and hexes and that one good, _forced_ conversation. Ron gave him a look. He realised that with this Draco had just told them he wasn't the heir. Far from feeling relieved, as Harry had expected to, he felt completely and overwhelmingly..._angry_.

Draco insisted on blaming him for things in which he had no part. From the first time they had really spoken, on the train when he had extended his fake, _unacceptable_ offer of friendship – and Harry _had done what he wanted_ by refusing it – Draco had disliked him, never bothering to tell him why. When their families had ended their conflict Harry had wanted to become his friend for real – or at least be able to say hello to him once in a while, and see his smile every now and then – but Draco had almost _jumped _on the chance to leave him in the dirt, using Ron's stupid, jealous, little thing as an excuse. And then he had _hexed_ him when Harry went to apologise, and not bothered to ask him afterwards if he was alright, or just tell him what the hex was so he could know if what was happening was normal-

"I've long thought that he's a brilliant manipulator, he must be using Granger as a cover for his hatred of Mudbloods. I bet she's Petrified next, even killed, just because she gets on his nerves. She gets on everybody's. He just disappears all the time and never explains why-"

_Because no one ever asked me!_

"The professors love him, so they're never going to suspect him. He's a Parselmouth, just like Salazar Slytherin, I bet that he uses it to get into the Chamber or something like that-"

_How could you make that connection?_

"I couldn't say. He's close to the groundskeeper, who probably has all sorts of monsters hidden away in the Forbidden Forest-"

_Hagrid would never endanger the lives of his students. How could you suspect him?_

"Potter's clearly dangerous-"

_Stop._

"-and if I had evidence I would go straight to Dumbledore-"

_Stop it._

"-and have him expelled-"

_Please stop, please._

"-maybe even jailed."

"STOP!" Harry shouted. His voice cracked. It was beginning to return to normal. The potion was wearing off. He didn't care. He was hurt and very, very angry.

Draco looked surprised, and a little scared. Harry didn't know why and really didn't care. "I thought you'd be happy. I'm clearly not in...l-lo-"

"Just stop it!" Harry was furious. "I can't believe I-"

"Come on, mate," Ron said quietly, grabbing his arm and dragging him out of the room. His hair had begun to turn red, and his nose was twitching oddly.

The last Harry saw was Malfoy sitting on his bed, looking bewildered, and the door slammed shut.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Notes - **I normally reply to reviews privately, but some interesting points were raised by bookworm19065 so I've decided to address them here.

Q:_ Should I assume that nothing happened from Harry's birthday until that moment since you didn't write about it? Or should I assume that it's the same as the book?  
><em>A: I was actually wondering if I should clarify this or not, so thank you for asking! You can assume that any events that aren't shown or mentioned in the story happened the way they did in the books - with small changes, like that the Potters are alive, Sirius isn't in prison and so on. I actually think through everything, but since I'm trying to move the story along faster a lot isn't appearing.

For example, Dobby still sealed off the entrance to Platform 9 ¾. Rather than hijacking the car and driving it to school, Harry and Ron were stuck waiting by it with Lily, who sent Hedwig with a letter to the school (as, in canon, McGonagall actually told them they should have done). They all went to Godric's Hollow for a cup of tea and Lily was forced to admit that Hedwig could be useful to have around. It just wasn't interesting enough to put in the story, so I didn't include it. But you'll note that the _Daily Prophet_ article is different to the one that appears in the book.

I'm at an advantage because I don't have to explain anything the way J. K. Rowling did - she's done it all for me. So you all know about the Whomping Willow and everything else without me having to have the boys crash into it. If there are any events that seem vague or you'd like to know about, honestly, I would love it if you asked. Otherwise my planning isn't really going into anything! But thanks so much for leaving the review. You're always brilliant.

Q:_ One random side note- the sun does orbit things- it orbits the Milky Way galaxy... And that orbits other galaxies, ect (it isn't very important, just that in chapter 20 you wrote that it didn't...)..._  
>A: I can't even tell you how much I laughed when I read this. I can't believe I didn't know that. It seems very basic! Just assume that Lily has about as good an understanding of the universe as I do, haha!<p>

I read and appreciate every one of the reviews you guys leave me. I'll just say here, thank you very much for them. I think you're all wonderful.


	24. Letters 1992

**Notes - **I wasn't able to log in yesterday. Did anyone else have that problem? It was fixed in time for me to update, but I don't want to think I missed out on reviews and things while it was all happening. Ah, well.

This chapter contains all the important letters of 1992 - Narcissa's response to Ron's near attack on Draco in first year, the Parseltongue incident, summons from the Ministry, Christmas letters, and Lily writing to Harry about Draco. You don't have to read these letters to understand what's happening in the story, but it does give a bit of background. Because this isn't really a chapter in itself a second one is going up with it.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_Mother,  
><em>

_You would not believe what happened to me today. I can hardly believe it myself, it is so outlandish. We always knew Weasley had one or two things wrong in the head, but never thought that he would do anything so utterly stupid and dangerous – he drew on me, Mother! In the hallway in front of any number of people! Professor McGonagall stopped him before we came to blows, and fortunately for him, too – but imagine my surprise when she took points off me, the victim! It was absolutely uncalled for. It was favouritism towards her house, I'm sure of it. It was awful, dreadful, any number of things! If you have an idea of how bad it was, it was twice as bad as that.  
><em>

_Potter was there, of course, he's never away from Weasley, though I honestly can't see why – and although I had done exactly as you asked and been civil to him, even though it was very trying, he joined in with it and drew on me as well! It was absolutely horrible, and terribly embarrassing – for him of course. Breaking a truce so quickly after it had been formed! Practically the next day! These Potters, I really do not understand why we are to associate with them. They are not proper or respectable at all. He could have killed me!  
><em>

_You see why I can't be expected to carry on being friendly with him. It is regrettable, of course, but much too dangerous. I would very much like to be able to return home in the mid-term holidays, alive.  
><em>

_I love you a very good deal, Mother, and miss you just as greatly.  
><em>

_Your son,  
><em>

_Draco  
><em>

-x-

_To my dear son  
><em>

_Civility extends even to the time after the other person has ceased to show it, and certainly to parchment. If you intend on writing home with complaints that we will not listen to, do us the service of phrasing them in a manner more befitting a Malfoy.  
><em>

_I have sent you some shortbread with this letter. Do not give any of it to Vincent. I have been hearing things.  
><em>

_Love and sentiments  
><em>

_Narcissa_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_Draco,_

_I am not one for writing letters. I have been encouraged of late to change that about myself. Parchment and ink, and feeding those pesky creatures so as to ensure the required obedience, just seem very trying._

_I trust that your classes are to a reasonable standard, you are forging advantageous alliances, and that you have due self-control in dealing with your classmates. Hexing people, while satisfying, does so easily complicate things.  
><em>

_I pray to Merlin that the beast that I have unthinkingly chosen to carry this does not bite you nearly as often as it has bitten me. This, my son, is why we have house-elves.  
><em>

_Affectionately,  
><em>

_Lucius  
><em>

-x-

_Father,  
><em>

_Thank you for your letter. I was pleased to have received it. You may tell Mother that this attempt at communicating with me while I am at school was successful. I do not think she will ever understand how much more is said between us when we meet in person, however occasionally.  
><em>

_I love you.  
><em>

_Draco  
><em>

-x-

_Draco,  
><em>

_You are a very good child. I wish that I was able to see you, to tell you that more often. Do hex this bird for me.  
><em>

_Lucius  
><em>

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_Harry_

_Why do I have to be informed by your headmaster that you are a Parselmouth? Why do I have to receive a formal letter from him, telling me that you spoke to a snake in front of nearly the entire school? Why do I have to wait days before you send me a letter that says absolutely nothing about it?_

_Unless you want me to come see you at Hogwarts, which I am more than prepared to do, I would like a letter from you immediately explaining how such a thing happened. This is very serious._

_Lily_

-x-

_Dear Mum,_

_I'm sorry. I didn't think it was important. At the Duelling Club, Malfoy created a snake with magic and I told it to calm down before it went around scaring everybody. I didn't know I was speaking Parseltongue. I've...yes, I've spoken to snakes before, but it just sounds like English to me! I always thought that they were magical, and that's why they could understand me... I'm sorry if I've done something wrong. I didn't mean to. Everyone's so scared of me now. Ron and Hermione and Fred and George, and Oliver and everyone on the Quidditch team, they're fine. But everyone else avoids me. I don't know what to do. I can't help it if I can speak to snakes. It's really not my fault. I was trying to help them. I didn't think I did anything wrong._

_From Harry_

-x-

_Oh, Harry. I'm sorry for frightening you. I'm sorry that all of this happened, and that other people aren't being good to you. It's okay. It doesn't change anything. Just...for me, could you try to avoid snakes from now on? People who don't know you will think it means that you aren't a good person, or that you're someone they should be afraid of. Don't pay them any attention. You know who you are. I know who you are, my son, and I love you. You are not dangerous and you are not evil. Stick with your friends, be very careful and always remember that I love you._

_Lily_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_To one Remus Lupin, who comes under the Werewolf Registry for Britain in the year of 1992, and has appeared on the aforementioned registry since the year of 1979, without alteration or obituary_

_As you are still considered a wizard and consequently come under the Wizard and Witch Rights Act that the British Ministry of Magic has obediently followed since its implementation in 1807, you are to be informed whenever the laws regarding you and your condition change. As of November 1992, they have. A number of anti-werewolf legislations are being processed in order to protect the magical community from the sudden onslaught of violent attacks by lycanthropes. To understand fully the far-reaching consequences of this law for you, you are officially and sternly requested by the British Ministry of Magic to report to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures on Thursday the 19__th__ of November, 1992, preferably before one o'clock. Failure to attend this appointment may result in arrest._

_Dolores Umbridge_

_Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, with particular authority on werewolf-wizarding relations in the present day and invested interest in the safety of Britain's magical population_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_To one Remus Lupin, who comes under the Werewolf Registry for Britain in the year of 1992, and has appeared on the aforementioned registry since the year of 1979, without alteration or obituary_

_As you failed to attend your appointment at the British Ministry of Magic, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures easily located on level four, you have been placed on several official watch lists and your movements will be monitored. It is advised that you do not Apparate or Disapparate as this may be considered by those observing you to be suspicious behaviour, at which point a warrant will be made for your arrest. A second appointment has been made for Friday the 26__th__ of November, 1992. Your details will be clarified before this date by owl post, and you are required by law to answer the following questions within three business days:_

_What is your current place of residence?  
><em>_What is, aside from your current place of residence, the place at which you most commonly reside?  
><em>_What is your full name and the names of every family member closely related by blood? Are or were any of these family members lycanthropic, or in regular contact with lycanthropes?  
><em>_How would you describe your transformations? Are they regular? Violent? Explicit? Endangering?  
><em>_Are you in a position to potentially injure those around you in any manner or form?  
><em>_What is your age, to the minute, comparative to the British Ministry of Magic's official clock, found in the Atrium of the British Ministry of Magic?  
><em>_Do you or have you previously thought of human flesh as being 'delicious' or appealing in some way?_

_Your compliance with our requests is both advised and necessary. In accordance with the Wizard and Witch Rights Act of 1807, I am informing you in advance that you will at some point in the next month be required to take Veritaserum._

_Dolores Umbridge_

_Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, with particular authority on werewolf-wizarding relations in the present day and invested interest in the safety of Britain's magical population_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_Merry Christmas, sweetheart. I'm sending Hedwig with a slice of the Christmas cake we are eating here. It's the same as every year – a bit dry and far too many colours, but it is a tradition! No matter how much I practice my cooking is still awful, so your father was in charge of it this year. He's really outdone himself. I wish you were here with us. But as you decided to stay with your friends at Hogwarts this year, I hope very much that you are enjoying it with them instead. Along with yours I've sent over some little gifts for them. Do you like your scarf? I love you, Harry. Try not to get up to any mischief. – Lily_

_Hey champ! Enjoying the famed Hogwarts' Christmas dinner? Try the trifle. If it's anything like the stuff they made for us when we were at school, it's absolutely brilliant. Have you heard? Williams has turned up in Australia. Deverill must be happy as anything. Puddlemere's replacement Seeker just wasn't doing the job. Still surprises me that they don't put traces on players, given how often they disappear these days... I suppose they can be tampered with. Anyway, Happy Christmas! Say the same to the Weasleys! – Dad_

_Harry, the twins sent me a letter. I had the sense to have Remus open it for me and now his fingers appear to be dyed blue. It's been that way for a week now, so I thought I might mention it. Any ideas? Or could you ask them how they did it? You three are too good for me. I never thought I would say that, but there it is. Have a good Christmas and give your owl a long rest later. Wonderful creature. Delivered us a letter of yours while we were out walking. I can't condemn your Simon's tastes. – Sirius_

_Hello Harry. How is your Christmas shaping up? I expect it will have been interesting. Having free reign of the castle is no little thing. Though we know you're having fun, we still miss you here. I'll see you when you come home for the mid-term holidays. I feel better for having you write me all those letters. I'm sorry, I must sound like Lily. It's just been a little...difficult here without you to distract me. Do well this year and keep safe. – Remus_

_There! A lovely long letter for you, sweetheart. Lots of love from all of us here!_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_To my dear son_

_Merry Christmas. I hope that the day is satisfactory and that every one of my gifts reaches you. I trust that you are just as safe there as you would have been at home with us. I wish that I could have seen your face today and hugged you and told you that you are loved. Words on parchment seem so much less._

_Your father sends similar warm regards. He keeps staring out the window as if that will bring you nearer to him._

_Affection and adoration_

_Narcissa_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_Dear Mum,_

_The weather is getting better here. I'm happy about that, because we were practicing Quidditch in the snow some days. I wore your scarf and the jumper Mrs Weasley gave me and they really helped. I was sneezing a lot this morning so Hermione got me to drink a Pepper-up Potion. My ears are still steaming as I write this. Isn't that so strange? You always just made me some tea and got me to rest for a while._

_Classes are great, except for Defence Against the Dark Arts. Professor Lockhart isn't very sensible and likes to go on about himself. We did a test last week and all of the questions were about him. It was his idea to start the Duelling Club, though. Severus has mostly taken charge of it. We have learned _Expelliarmus_, the Jelly-Legs Curse _Locomotor Wibbly, _and how to counter both. The upper-years are learning more dangerous spells, but second-years are only allowed to use basic hexes and jinxes. I think it's going pretty well. It's important to know how to defend yourself._

_Love you,_

_From Harry_

-x-

_Dear Mum,_

_I left the book Hermione gave me for my birthday at home, and I'd be grateful if you could send it with Hedwig. It's called _Transverto Dux _by Decimus Domitius. I got Hermione to write that down so I know it's spelled properly. It has some notes in it that I think will help me with what we're covering in Transfiguration – we're changing living things this year. Just beetles and worms, but it's still a lot harder than matches and cups were. Thank you!_

_Professor Sprout's working on an antidote for Petrification. Neville is always in the greenhouse helping her. Something to do with Mandrakes... I hope it works. It's really horrible seeing them just lying there, not moving. At least they don't know what's going on. There haven't been any attacks recently and people have started acting a bit more normally._

_Love you,_

_From Harry_

-x-

_Dear Mum,_

_Today I beat Ron at Wizard Chess! It surprised both of us. I guess you can learn a lot just by watching someone else. I've seen him play the game so many times I knew what he was going to do, and I just did something I thought he wouldn't expect – and it worked! He keeps telling everyone now because he thought it was really funny. Fred's considering making me a trophy. I told him that he really, really didn't have to._

_I found a diary recently. It was empty but I can't find its owner. We think it belonged to a prefect that was here years and years ago. It's a Muggle one – black and plain-looking. I'll hold on to it for a bit longer, I think, and then get rid of it. I feel like I'm forgetting something and it's bothering me. But it doesn't matter too much._

_Love you,_

_From Harry_

-x-

_Harry_

_I am always happy to get letters from you and I like to know what you are doing at school. But aren't you missing something? Hermione, Ron, the twins, Oliver and everyone, I know how they are. What about Draco Malfoy? Have you two had a falling out? You haven't mentioned him in your letters for months._

_We have been visiting the Malfoys every other week at the Manor. It's not such a cold place, once you get used to it. They have rooms filled with artefacts and precious things, family heirlooms they've kept for generations and that Lucius is thinking of donating to museums, or the Ministry. You would love to see them. There's more than in our family vault at Gringott's. It would be a stretch to say that the Malfoys themselves are kind, or even likable, but if there's one thing we can talk about it's our children. We all want so much for you and Draco to get along._

_The diary might have belonged to a prefect? I was a prefect as well, at school. If you tell me the owner's name I might recognise it. I hope you are able to return the book to them. It's good of you to try._

_I love you very much,_

_Lily_

-x-

_Dear Mum,_

_Hermione has been petrified, as well as a Ravenclaw girl called Penelope Clearwater. They're both in the infirmary. Neville says that the antidote should be ready soon and not to worry. It's a relief to know that she won't be that way for long. Because of the attacks Quidditch has been cancelled for the year. I know Oliver was really disappointed. It's a shame that all the work we put in didn't come to anything._

_Malfoy looked relieved. I think he knew his team had no chance of winning the House Cup._

_He called Hermione something awful yesterday so I hexed him. Even with all the Duelling Club meetings he's no good at countering. To show him how to do it properly I countered the two hexes he tried on me, and then I disarmed him. We aren't getting along but at least it's good practice._

_When I wasn't looking he got me with a Jelly-Legs Jinx and I fell partway down the stairs. We both got detention, fortunately away from each other. I don't like to look at his face. I don't like to be around him. I don't think we're ever going to be friends. It's not something I want anymore._

_Please don't ask me about him again._

_From Harry_


	25. The Chamber

**Notes - **This is the second of two chapters to go up today, as the first was made up of letters. This is also the last chapter for the Chamber of Secrets book! I can't believe it, my favourite and it's finished already... At least I had a good time re-reading it so that I could get everything right.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Harry ran his trembling fingers over the copper image of a snake. There was the faint sound of water dripping. Myrtle had disappeared when she'd realised he wasn't there to talk to her. It was dark but he could see everything clearly, lit blue and casting shadows. His other hand tightly clenched the parchment he had pried from Hermione's fingers. It was a page from a book, describing basilisks and their ability to kill just by looking at you with their huge, sickly yellow eyes. She had made a small note at the bottom, which was what had led him here. _Pipes._

Without lessening his grip on the parchment, he touched his fingertips to his wand, tucked away in his robes. Harry closed his eyes. What he was about to do was extraordinarily dangerous. He had never done anything like this before. But it had to be him. Only he could speak Parseltongue and get into the Chamber of Secrets. As soon as he had realised, Harry had sent Ron to Professor Lockhart's office 'to talk to him about what they'd found out', telling his friend that he had to get some books together. Instead he had run down to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, already half-convinced that he was never going to come out of it.

He opened his eyes and drew his fingers away from the tap. Ginny Weasley was trapped in the Chamber. If Harry could save her then he would without a second thought. Even if it meant putting himself in an absurd amount of danger, even if it meant that he would...

Ron would be upset. So would George, Fred, Mum, Dad, Sirius, Remus, and Hermione when she woke up. Harry could just hear her – '_you should have told a teacher, not gone down there on your own, you're only a second-year'_. He could hear his mum, too – '_you should have told Dumbledore, someone else could have done it, you need to keep yourself safe' _– his dad – _'that's what friends are for, to look out for you, you didn't need to do it that way' _– Fred and George – _'you should have told us' _– Remus – _'you're most important, you need to take care of yourself first' – _Severus, even – _'you're as reckless as your father and as foolish as your mother' _– Dumbledore – '_Hogwarts would have protected you, if you had let it' _– voices going round and round inside his head.

People cared about him, he knew. They cared about Ginny as well. He wouldn't let her die. If she was already...he would bring her back to her family.

Harry choked on a sob, a tear running down his cheek and more welling in his eyes. He wiped at his face with the sleeve of his robes and breathed in harshly. He was more afraid than he had ever been. A part of him didn't know how he could willingly do this.

"_Open up,_" he hissed, and the basins began to whir and click.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Urgent call...unavoidable...got to go..." Lockhart looked everywhere but at Ron, stuffing books into a trunk and gathering up his many photographs. The Lockharts in them were no longer smiling and instead ducked around nervously.

"What about my sister?" Ron said disbelievingly. A professor couldn't just abandon his students! Surely even Lockhart, the slimy git, had something of a conscience.

Lockhart pulled a drawer out roughly and turned it upside-down over a bag. "Well, as to that – most unfortunate-" he started to say.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and a man stormed into the room, his blonde hair flying out and his eyes flashing. Ron recognised him – it was the bloke who'd tackled the house-elf on Harry's birthday! "You're-"

A long-fingered hand forcibly covered his mouth. Ron's eyes widened in surprise. "No time for that," the man said shortly, his face grim and worried. "We're going to the bathroom. _Now_."

Lockhart blinked, but after a moment of confusion went back to his rushed packing. "Yes, well. You'll have to forgive me, but I must be on my way-"

"You're not going anywhere," the man – Simon, was it? – snarled at him. At that moment Ron pushed his hand away and took a few steps back. "Ah! Weasley, don't make this difficult-"

Lockhart leapt for his wand but Simon pulled out his and stopped him. Unsure of what exactly was going on, Ron drew his wand on Simon and tried to look menacing even as his face went red. "You–! Put your wand down! I know curses, loads of them!"

For a moment Simon just looked very tired, and Ron wondered if he was doing the right thing. "_Accio _wand," he muttered and put his hand out to catch Ron's wand, which had flown suddenly out of his hand. While he was distracted Lockhart made again for his wand, but Simon glared at him and he lifted his hands in surrender. "We don't have time for this! Lockhart, down the stairs. Go!"

"Wh-"

Simon turned his head so fast his shoulder-length hair spun out. There was anger in his eyes, but more than that there was frustration, desperation, worry. "Weasley, I _will _hex you," he warned.

Numbly, Ron nodded and followed them out of the office. He had to run to keep up with them. At one point Lockhart fell, and he thought Simon was going to help him, but he just waited for him to pick himself up and then rushed him down the stairs. When his eyes met Ron's they had no apology in them. "It could have been a trick. To get my wand off me. In urgent circumstances it's more important to be suspicious than kind."

"Are you really an Auror?" Ron asked him a bit breathlessly.

Simon looked ahead of them. He probably didn't want anyone to see him leading a professor by wand-point, with a student just behind him. Actually, Percy was meant to be on patrol tonight. There would be a right mess if they ran into him. "No," he said.

"I didn't think you were."

"Don't I look like one?"

Ron grimaced and didn't bother answering his half-serious question. Instead he asked his own. "Why are we going to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom?"

Simon stumbled on a stair and Ron caught him. By the time Lockhart turned around to see what had happened they were on the move again. "I should have said earlier. Harry's down there. He's trying to get into the Chamber on his own."

"He told me he had to get some books-"

"He was lying. People do that." Simon turned in to a hallway and wordlessly, Lockhart followed him. Their footsteps rang out in the relative silence. "Harry told you that so you wouldn't go with him. He wants to save Ginny, but he doesn't want to put anyone else in danger. Except, of course, himself. Always an idiot. No sense of self-preservation. You can have your wand back now by the way, as long as you don't hex me with it. Here."

Ron took it with a small smile. "Thanks. Why are we rushing, though? He can't get into the Chamber. We don't know how to."

"_You_ don't. He worked it out and didn't say anything. That's another kind of lying. You've got to keep on your toes with Harry." He went on more quietly, like he was speaking to himself. "Likes to play the hero. Never tells you anything. The misery he's put me through, I swear..."

Mum sometimes acted like this when one of the twins got hurt, or she didn't hear anything from Bill for a couple of weeks, or a part of the house fell down. It meant that she was worried. Really worried. And more than a little bit scared. Ron ran faster and Simon matched his pace.

When they reached the bathroom Myrtle wasn't there, and neither was Harry. Behind them Lockhart made noises of dismay. Ron kept an eye on him so that Simon could do what he needed to. He threw himself at the circle of basins, running his hands over each one and muttering to himself. "Not this one...not this one either...shit, need to be faster..." Finally he stopped, bringing his face closer to a tap. "A snake. This is it, this is how we get in."

"You _have_ to be joking!" Lockhart said in high-pitched voice, shutting up when Ron stabbed his wand into his chest.

"How?" Ron asked more calmly.

"I don't know," Simon admitted. "I was hoping to get here before he went in. I only know that he used Parseltongue..."

"None of us speak it. We can't get in. Oh gods, if he dies...and Ginny's down there too..." Ron said wretchedly.

"No one's going to die! It's just...certain things need to happen. They need..." He closed his eyes, his expression going from desperation to one of cool determination. "They _need _to_ happen. _Ron!"

"Yes!"

"I'm going to need your help! Now, listen to me..."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The floors were coated with slime. The walls were wet, disorderly rock. The ceiling was slanted and so low in places that Harry, looking forward rather than up, hit his head on it roughly. As he moved, carefully, hesitantly, fragments of rock shook out of his hair and robes. His glasses were crooked. It was silent, except for the noise that he was making, breathing in sharply when he almost fell, his shoes squelching, rocks and bones being kicked aside. His heart beat loudly in his ears.

Even though he had cast _Lumos_, it was still very dark. Harry could only see one or two steps in front of him. He walked around the giant, shed skin of the basilisk. At first he was afraid to touch it, as though just that would Petrify him, but it caught him when he nearly fell, the skin thicker and stronger than it had seemed. After that he ran one hand along it, using it to guide him through the tunnel that he could hardly see. The dried out scales cracked and hissed. The bones that littered the ground broke under his feet. Slime tried to hold on to his shoes and jagged rocks cut at his feet and legs.

He opened and closed his eyes often and repeatedly. _Any sign of movement you shut your eyes straight away. Any sign of movement you shut your eyes straight away. Any sign of movement you shut your eyes straight away. Any sign of movement..._

Up ahead he could see a wall, neater than the others with two twining snakes carved into it. They were taller than him with emerald eyes that shone. At any moment Harry expected them to move, to slip away from the wall and bite him. They did not look welcoming. He shivered, clenched his hand into a fist to stop it from shaking, and spoke again in Parseltongue, never forgetting what had brought him down here.

_Any sign of movement you shut your eyes straight away. Any sign of movement you..._

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Ron shot out of the pipe, landing roughly on the ground. There were bones everywhere, the sort you saw after a feast in the Great Hall, chicken and fish, harmless enough but there were so many that it didn't make Ron feel any better about possibly running into the thing that had eaten them. Lockhart was brushing himself down and Simon was holding him at wandpoint, having waited for Ron to come down after them. He had slime all down one side and his hair was a mess. He looked like he put a lot of effort into his appearance, but he wasn't fussing like Lockhart. Didn't seem to be a bad bloke, really.

"Keep an eye on him, would you," said Simon.

"Right. Yeah." His feet sunk into the pile of bones and he almost fell as he went over to Lockhart. Simon caught his arm and helped him stand, not taking his eyes off their prisoner.

When that was sorted Simon took a few steps into the dark tunnel, looking all around it. "_Lumos Maxima,_" he cast and a bright orb of light floated out of his wand and into the air. "There'd better be only one way through this. Not that it matters. Come on, you two."

They obeyed and it was a few minutes of quiet walking before Ron spotted the basilisk's skin. "What's that? It can't be...it's huge!"

Simon made a noise of impatient agreement, tapping his wand against his forearm. His hair shone silver and his skin was so pale – didn't he get any sun, at all? – it seemed to glow. He didn't look like he belonged here, in a dark, dirty tunnel with his robes getting covered in Merlin knew what.

Lockhart fell to the ground and Ron told him to get up. In the next moment, he was knocked over, his wand wrested from his hands. He blinked at the ceiling and made to stand. Lockhart, the poncy git, was aiming his own wand at him.

"The adventure ends here, gentlemen!" He grinned widely – he wouldn't be looking that way if he knew what the fall had done to his hair, Ron thought. "I shall take a bit of this skin back up to the school, tell them I was too late to save the girl, and that you two _tragically _lost your minds at the sight of-"

"Yes, yes, just get on with it!" Simon snapped.

"Ah?" Lockhart was looking at him with all the confusion that Ron was feeling. "Ah, yes... _Obliviate!_"

It was as if the wand understood it was about to be used against its master, and had at that moment decided to be useful for the first time since Ron had got the bloody thing from Charlie...considering the number of spells it had botched and back-fired, the least it could do was explode above Lockhart's head, sending rock crashing everywhere and causing the man to fall with a very stupid expression on his face.

He was caught up and pressed to Simon's chest – the man even_ smelled_ pretty, like very old wood and flowers, and Ron realised that if it weren't for Harry he wouldn't have had anything to do with him – and they rolled forcibly aside. Ron couldn't see anything, could hear the muffled sounds of rocks slamming against the ground and each other, and Simon gasping in pain. After a minute he was released and stood up, feeling disoriented.

Lockhart was sprawled across the ground, knocked unconscious by the misfired spell or a rock or both. He didn't seem to be hurt. Patting himself down, Ron found that he was fine as well. It was Simon, who was clutching at his shoulder and wincing, that looked to have gotten the worst of it.

"Come on, we've got to go," he said, holding his wand in one shaking hand and his shoulder with the other.

"But Lockha-"

"He's fine, just leave him. We've got to find Harry." Simon started to walk off but stopped when he saw that Ron wasn't following him. He groaned and grabbed Ron's wrist, pulling him forcefully. "I told you we don't have time for this, Weasley! Don't you want to help your sister?"

Ron stumbled along. Simon's shoulder was bleeding. They were just leaving Lockhart there. How could Simon know he was going to be okay if he didn't check? He wanted to help Ginny, and Harry too, but they'd dragged the professor down here, wasn't he their responsibility? He was wandless now, and wasn't sure that he could trust Simon not to leave him behind too. And there was a basilisk, and they still didn't know who the Heir of Slytherin was, and no one knew they were here, and no one could get in even if they did...

"Another door," Simon muttered. He let go of Ron and looked him straight in the eyes. "You know I need you for this. Harry is in there with Ginny. We have to go after him. He needs us to."

For some reason Ron felt like he was going to burst into tears. But he stopped himself and nodded. He was here now. There was nothing he could do about it but hope that this was the right thing to be doing.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Just you and me, Harry Potter...you and me..."

Harry stared up at Tom Riddle, the Heir of Slytherin, the one who had killed Myrtle all those years ago, school prefect, Head Boy, owner of the diary, hater of Muggle-borns, Lord Voldemort, the one who had attacked his home and his parents when he was just a baby. Watched as he smiled and raised his wand.

His own blood had soaked through his robes. The basilisk lay dead and Fawkes flew circles over them. The Sorting Hat was crumpled on the ground and near it was the sword that it had given Harry to fight with. Ginny wasn't moving, nearly drained of life. There was nothing he could do but stare up at Riddle, hatred for the man stronger than his fear and showing clearly on his face.

The diary was near him, practically untouched by everything that had gone on around it. Harry glanced at it, angry that he could have kept it near him after all it had done to Ginny, forcing her to do the terrible things she had. This was why she had looked sick all term. This was what she had tried to tell him about. This was how Voldemort had gotten out again to ruin his second year the way he'd ruined his first, and maybe even kill him.

He seized the basilisk fang and rammed it into the diary.

Ink flooded out of it and Riddle screamed long and loud. Black stained Harry's hands, arms, chest, neck, but his glasses remained clear enough for him to watch Riddle writhing on the floor and suddenly vanish. The ink subsided to a trickle. Harry stared in shock at the diary, which had a hole cut clean through it. His hands shook and he dropped the fang, covered in ink itself.

Feet clattered on the stone floor. It was Ron and Simon. The sight of them should have surprised Harry but he was much too relieved to think about how they could be here.

"Ginny!" Ron cried, rushing over to his sister who was moving ever so slightly.

Simon ran over to Harry, and the next thing he knew he was being hugged so tightly, and he clutched his robes in his hands and began to desperately cry.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

There was panic downstairs. Remus could hear it effortlessly – an owl, a letter crumpling, a chair falling over, putting on a jacket, throwing powder into the fire, feet on the stairs, down the hallway, stopping outside his door. It was open and James walked tentatively in.

His room at Godric's Hollow was furnished in clocks. Ticking, ticking, ticking, everywhere, every minute of every day of every week of every month. On the walls, on the dresser, on the shelves, on the floor, on the ceiling. Old wood and plastic and metal. Big and small and tiny and huge. There was a circular skylight, so he could see the moon when it was out and be reminded of it when it wasn't. Remus could never afford to forget. His life was fear and moons and friends and ticking, and letters from the Ministry, and growing hatred for Dolores Umbridge.

He stood centremost, his hands behind his back and facing away from James. It was rare that he was interrupted here. It was a room for both wariness and indulgence, where he would let himself become angry, afraid, upset, resentful. He was here more and more as his problems with the Ministry worsened. They had all undoubtedly noticed. Sirius was getting worried. Sirius should be worried about himself, the Ministry hated his existence too, considered him a liar because he hadn't told them he was an Animagus as soon as he'd become one. No matter that it was for the Potters' protection. No matter that Remus couldn't cure himself.

"Harry went after the one who was behind all the attacks," James said softly. "It was Voldemort."

Remus' hands twitched but he did not turn around.

"Lily's gone to Hogwarts. I'm going now as well. Are you coming?"

So there was a choice. Stay here and cry for what his godson had been through, or go to the school and see now how he was.

He turned his head, and then his body. "I can't Apparate." His voice was hoarse. It had been a while since he'd last used it.

James smiled, sadly. "I know. We'll go by Floo. Come on, they're waiting for us."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Mr Malfoy!" came Harry Potter's voice.

It was regrettable to be seen struggling with one's house-elf, particularly by someone you were of a mind to impress. Lucius just didn't have the way with them, there was no helping that. Every reason he had for bringing the creature along had been made redundant by its unwillingness. It was nearly fighting his arm, though of course it could not hurt him, seeming to misunderstand his force as oppression – when all he wanted was to get it home faster so as few people as possible could see it misbehaving.

"I've got something for you," Harry said, cramming into his hand the filthiest sock Lucius ever had the misfortune to see.

"What the–?"

Wresting the diary that had been encased in the sock, he flung it aside and looked at Harry, trying to determine what his little stunt had been about. It became apparent a moment later when the house-elf spoke: "Master has given Dobby a sock. Dobby has got a sock. Master threw it, and Dobby caught it, and Dobby – Dobby is _free._"

A smile played at Harry's lips and he looked up at Lucius, eyes filled with childish pride.

"You appear to have lost me a servant," Lucius said lightly.

"Oh, don't give me the credit. You did that all on your own." Harry put a hand on the house-elf's shoulder as it neared him. "Very kind of you, might I say."

If they had been closer Lucius would have laughed. As it was he put the utterly destroyed diary into his robe pocket and tapped his cane once on the ground. "It is good to see you well after such an ordeal. To think! A child your age has faced Voldemort three times and has only one scar to show for it all. A distinctive one, naturally. I venture to wonder what will happen in your third year."

The house-elf took a small step forward, having mistaken Lucius' words as a threat against the boy who now commanded his loyalty. Harry merely glanced at it. "Thanks for your concern, but you don't have to worry about me. There are too many people doing that already."

"I'm sure," Lucius murmured, eyeing the house-elf, who was hugging close to Harry. "Your parents have visited Malfoy Manor often of late. Will you be joining them in your upcoming holidays? Perhaps you and Draco might study together, or go flying on our grounds-"

A dark look passed over Harry's face, which escaped neither Lucius' nor the house-elf's attention. "With respect, Mr Malfoy. I'm more than happy to visit the Manor. But not while your son is there. I should go now, Mum's waiting for me. And I guess you're coming too, Dobby! Goodbye." Without another word they walked off together down the hallway.

For his part, Lucius continued down the stairs. He would take the diary home and burn it. And then he would write a lengthy letter to Draco asking him exactly what he had done, and telling him how foolish it had been that he had done it.


	26. The Prisoner

**Notes - **I had a lot of trouble with this chapter, which is why it's late. There wasn't anything I could really do with the Prisoner of Azkaban book because Sirius isn't in prison. So this is the only chapter for third year.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The first thing to notice about Malfoy Manor was that it was large. Larger than Godric's Hollow, larger than number 12, Grimmauld Place. Sirius fancied that it was almost as large as the Ministry. It took twenty minutes to walk from the gardens at the front of the house to the drawing room, with nothing especially interesting to look at as you did. There were portraits lining the walls endlessly, but they were all of Blacks and Malfoys and full of more hate for him than anyone living had ever shown. He kept to the middle of the hallways as much as he could.

The second thing to notice was that it was very dark. There were never more candles in a room than you could count on your fingers – all strategically placed so there was just enough light for you to see, but not enough for you to see comfortably. The walls were so tall that at times he could barely make out the ceiling, and if there were windows they were high up on them and therefore fairly pointless. If James was here for any more than the occasional visit his vision would worsen – Harry's too. It was a wonder the Malfoys weren't half-blind.

Most of the Manor was sparsely furnished, giving the impression that the house was empty. Sirius knew that there would be hundreds, thousands of things in storage somewhere that the family didn't want people to see. Maybe hidden in a portrait or under the floor. In truth, the house looked empty because it was so vast, and what was really a huge amount of furniture was distributed evenly through the rooms. You could always tell a room that was used most often because it had more in it – the bedrooms, undoubtedly, and studies and playrooms, which Sirius hadn't found yet but fully intended to. There would be a home hidden away in the house. You couldn't get by without one.

The floorboards were black wood and aged, and went partway up the walls in simple patterns. They met with elaborate metal sconces, which were tellingly arranged around the portraits rather than the portraits around them. Everything looked old. Truly old, centuries of years old. When Sirius reached the drawing room he found a long, stone table with symbols carved into its legs and more than a dozen chairs pushed into it. They were from different eras. Maybe they kept the place dark so that people couldn't see that the furniture was mismatched.

There was a fire, finally! He went to stand in front of it. That was another thing, the Manor was cold. There were always draughts running across your feet and arms, even when there was nowhere for them to be coming from. Even though it was June, the beginning of summer, and Godric's Hollow had been hot and sunny when they'd left it this morning, the sky here was overcast like it was going to rain. He was grateful for the fire's warmth. It had him feeling better in seconds.

Someone ran into the room and Sirius half-turned, his expression one of vague curiosity. Harry grinned at him, wild-haired and red-faced. Then he took off again, almost colliding with the table, going around it and through a doorway to Merlin-knew-where. At least he was enjoying himself. Sirius had thought he would be unhappy or at least bored in a place like this.

But it had something for all of them, it seemed – Lily had taken to the gardens, and when he'd left her there she had been trying to convince Lucius Malfoy to grow some flowering vines along the house. James hung around near the fountain – there'd been something like it on one of the Potter properties, if he remembered rightly. Sirius was wandering around, seeing how the place had changed since he'd last been here, before he'd gone to Hogwarts and become a Gryffindor and pureblood families weren't as happy to associate with him.

Remus was meeting with Dumbledore and couldn't come with them today. That was a good thing. Unlike the Malfoys, Dumbledore wasn't going to treat him badly because he was a werewolf. He had enough stress already with the Ministry harassing him – Sirius couldn't complain about his own legal battle, because while they might be bullying him for being an Animagus, they were damn near killing Remus for something he had no choice in.

And that was it, wasn't it. He wanted so desperately _not_ to be a werewolf. Far from being something he didn't like, Remus _hated_ it. If those bureaucratic idiots couldn't get that through their thick skulls, they deserved to have him turn and go on a rampage – _which he was never going to do, anyway._

Having warmed himself up, Sirius went through the door that Harry had earlier. It led on to another hallway, even darker than the ones before. There were fewer portraits and one or two of them muttered as Sirius went past. A candle flickered. He passed a closed door on his left, huge and wooden with unreadable markings around its edges. Then there was one on his right, and on his left again, and they lined both sides of the hallway which showed no sign of ending.

It had been silent, but now he could hear the low sounds of people talking. As he walked they became louder and louder.

"-I did nothing to provoke him! I don't understand why he reacted that way."

"The Potters are slow to forgive. Are you certain there is nothing-"

"One or two little things, maybe! But I-"

"Draco." A long pause. "You are never to interrupt me when I am speaking. I will always listen to what you have to say, there is no need for that kind of rudeness."

"Y-yes, Mother. I'm sorry."

How interesting! This is why you should always explore new places, and old ones too every now and then. Sirius was careful to walk quietly so they wouldn't hear him. There was a door open further down the hallway, sending a square of light onto the opposite wall. He stopped when he was close to it and listened to their conversation.

"One or two things, you said. What were they?"

"Well..."

Sirius wanted to laugh at the boy's reluctance. Of course he wouldn't want to tell his mother what he'd been up to at school. Harry never did anything he was ashamed of, just kept things from Lily he thought she wouldn't want to know about. Draco Malfoy probably had to bite his tongue every time he spoke. It was bizarre that Narcissa would ask for honesty, but as a pureblood was teaching him that he should always lie. So many contradictions. It wasn't good for anyone.

"I called his friend a Mudblood and he hexed me, so I got him back – it was self-defence, Mother, I swear it! – and then he might have...fallen down the stairs... It was a harmless jinx, how was I to know that would happen? And he was alright after a trip to the infirmary. It was just a little thing..."

"That is one incident, Draco. What was the second?"

There was another long pause and Sirius chuckled quietly to himself. This was too funny. No wonder Harry had been angry at him when they'd arrived. He'd refused to look at Draco, and then when they were pushed toward each other had given the boy such a glowering look that Sirius had actually thought to check for burns. It had surprised all of them to realise that he was capable of such animosity. Now it seemed that it was deserved.

"I sabotaged his potion, Mother. It...exploded...and Severus took twenty points from his house."

She didn't say anything for a time, and Sirius could just imagine the boy squirming.

"Neither of those things happened recently! I really don't know what it's about. Ever since Christmas he has acted differently. He used to listen to me, or laugh it off when I did something, but now..."

Gods, he sounded like he was going to cry.

"Alright, Draco." And that was the end of it. "How are your studies? Has that book been of any help?"

"Yes, Mother. There are diagrams of the change, which I had only read about previously. It looks very unpleasant but it should only feel that way the first time. I have been doing exercises to improve my mind. I only hope that they are the right ones."

What, was the Malfoy heir a werewolf? That would be fantastic!

"I have been looking for a tutor. There are only three registered Animagi in Europe – I did not think your professor would be suitable, another is proving difficult to locate and the third is an elderly man in Croatia. As you cannot attempt the change until your growing has slowed, I hope that you can wait until we have found someone to help you with it."

Sirius took a step back, stunned.

The Malfoy heir was trying to become an Animagus? And his mother was supporting him? That was absolutely mad! Did they understand how dangerous it was? Peter had almost gotten himself killed, he'd had hair all over him and one arm was shrunken...there were so many ways for it to go wrong! He didn't like the boy, but he didn't want him to die! The only reason he and James had gotten it right was because they'd helped each other. It was absolutely foolish to try it on your own. There was no hoping, you had to be certain about what it was you were doing.

He took a moment to gather himself, and then he rounded the door and went into the room. It was a library with tiered shelves and stairs leading up to them. Narcissa stood in the middle of the room with her son, and saw him first. She glared at him powerfully. It was the usual reaction of a pureblood to someone who had betrayed their line. Sirius smiled at her, nonchalantly, even as his heart felt like it would burst out of his chest.

"Hello, cousin," he said calmly.

"I am not–!" she hissed. Her hands were shaking and clenched into fists, such was the force of her anger.

Draco was obviously surprised. "Mother...?"

"You haven't come to visit."

"As if I would! The only reason I have allowed you here is because the Potters wished you to be! It is _their_ opinion that I care about!"

He had to admit, that stung a little. They had played together as children. He had liked her best after Andromeda. Never joined in when they were up to mischief, but never told anyone either and laughed when it was done. Now she stood in front of him, older and more elegant, anger and disdain in her eyes that had never been there when she was a girl. He wondered how she saw him.

"I overheard your conversation. You will forgive me." Sirius turned to Draco, who stared up at him without the recognition a child should have of someone he was related to. "Draco Malfoy. You _have_ gotten tall."

Narcissa made a choking sound. A glance in her direction told him that she was furious, but beginning to realise that she could make use of him.

"How old are you now? Harry's age, so twelve?"

"Thirteen," Draco said shortly.

"Very impressive. I'd like to show you something, Draco. Just stand there a moment, and I'll step back, and-" Sirius changed smoothly from a human to a huge, black dog. He sat down on the ground and watched Draco, who was suddenly a lot taller. The boy was surprised. Of course he would be. This sort of thing didn't happen every day.

He took a cautious step forward and reached out his hand. Sirius just waited for him. When he was close enough, Draco touched his head and patted it awkwardly. Then, to Sirius' utter astonishment, he laughed. He tumbled to the floor in front of him and rubbed his head and muzzle with both hands, smiling as widely as Harry did. "You have to teach me how to do that!"

Narcissa was covering her face with her hands. This must be awfully embarrassing for her. It was clear that Draco hadn't been raised the way they had been, with sacrifice, self-denial and self-restraint. It looked like she and Lucius had been quite indulgent.

Which was absolutely _wonderful_.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Remus took a shaking sip of his pumpkin juice. He didn't know why Albus had wanted to meet him here. There were too many people. Talking too loudly, breathing too loudly, staring at him and the stupid pink wristband. The Ministry had made it permanent! Because he could never find Umbridge when he went to their appointments! Every second day, another letter. More threats of arrest. Azkaban might be better. But no, think of James and Siri, think of Harry. He could bear this for them, he could, he had to...

"Lovely day, isn't it?" Albus beamed and looked around them.

He thought it was too hot. But he ducked his head jerkily.

"Yes, a very lovely day. A day for beginnings, I think. It's that sort of weather. Now, to business!" His smile disappeared and he leaned forward in his chair. "You probably know, Harry has probably told you, but we are in need of a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor."

"What?" The word came out strange, like a sharp breath of air, he was so surprised.

"The last one had an unfortunate accident, with a Memory Charm and a student's faulty wand. Very unfortunate. Very accidental. Of course. You must have heard all this from young Harry, I am just filling your ears with snuff and notsense. Is that it? Stuff and nonsense. Not the things you want your ears filled with, I know..." He laughed a little and sat back.

Remus smiled weakly. Either the man was mad or he was trying to cheer him up. Possibly both.

"Thank you, Albus. But I really can't accept-"

It seemed at that moment like Albus became infinitely more sane and serious. He toyed with a chain hanging from his robes and watched Remus with eyes so open it was hard to read them. "Ah, yes. I heard that Ms Umbridge has latched on to you. It doesn't matter at all, Remus. Hogwarts is a sanctuary. I have said it before, and it is just as true now as it was then – help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it. And you," he smiled, "have asked for it."

Not knowing quite how to react, Remus took another drink of pumpkin juice. A woman was ushering her children past his table. When she caught sight of his wristband she gathered them up and went right back out of the store. A few people looked after her confusedly, others with understanding. He hunched his shoulders, lowered his head, hid his arm away underneath the table. This was too hard. It was too much. It had been eight months and he could hardly stand it.

There was a shuffling sound as Albus took out some papers and put them on the table. Then he took out a self-inking quill and put that down as well. "You have all the skills necessary for the position. Only the staff would be told of your affliction. It has been a long time since Hogwarts answered to the Ministry. You would be safe in its care, if only you would accept it."

Remus glanced up at him. He was smiling that wise old smile.

This felt like the easy way out. His problems would catch up to him eventually. A stubborn part of him wanted to deal with them on his own, but the rest of him knew that he couldn't any longer. He was a strong man. But he wasn't strong enough.

Signing the papers was all that he had left in him to do.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Hermione walked briskly down the empty hallway, clutching her books to her chest. Class was going to end in two minutes. If she wasn't at least at the stairs by then, she'd be seen and there would be no end of trouble. Professor McGonagall had told her several times how dangerous Time-Turners could be. She'd spent an hour in a cupboard last week because she was running a minute late. Afterward she'd just turned it back and gone to the class she had missed, but that meant by the end of the day there were four of her running around and she'd had to be very careful...it was really just very complicated.

It was her second time doing today. Muggle Studies first, then History of Magic, then lunch – which she would spend in Professor McGonagall's office, revising – then Charms and then she'd go back in time and do it all over again. Hermione was starting to feel fed up. When you did every day – except for Thursdays and weekends – three times, it got to be a bit much.

She checked her watch and walked faster. It was so hard to read in cupboards! As she rushed down the hallway, she passed an empty classroom and spotted Malfoy inside it, sitting on the floor with books spread out around him. She couldn't help herself. She stopped.

This explained why he hadn't been in Divination. Very clever of him, it had been a waste of time. Hermione neared the door, but Malfoy didn't notice her. He was too caught up in whatever he was reading. All she could really see was that one of the books had pictures of animals on it. There were some letters that Hermione thought must be from his parents. But she couldn't see exactly what he was doing.

She looked down the hallway and checked her watch again. Less than a minute. Well, she wasn't going to make it anyway. She went into the classroom, peering over Malfoy at the books...

_...transform...immense difficulty...Animagus...determined by..._

It was strange that he would skip class just to study something Professor McGonagall had mentioned. Was it going to be on a test? Did she need to be studying too? Hermione fretted for a minute before she saw that the letters were signed _Sirius Black_. That was Harry's godfather, wasn't it? Why would he be writing to Malfoy?

The truth hit her and she stared at Malfoy, who still hadn't noticed she was there. Then she left the room and ran to the stairs, just as people began to shuffle around, putting what she'd just seen right at the back of her mind and doing her best to get to Muggle Studies before her past self got to Divination. What she was doing suddenly seemed a lot less dangerous.


	27. Unwanted Bravery

**Notes - **I had some trouble with my computer this week and it's finally been fixed. If I can I'll always let you guys know when a chapter is going to be late, at the end of the latest chapter or on my profile. Sorry for the delay!

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Lily walked from the kitchen down to the sitting area, a mug of tea in each hand. She offered one to Remus but he shook his head and lifted a vial of potion he had. It would dull his heightened senses so that he could stand to be here, in a tent at the Quidditch World Cup with hundreds and thousands of others around it. He had to drink it every half an hour and neither of them expected he would sleep tonight. But it meant a lot to Harry and to all of them that he had come along.

"Would you like this?" she asked Hermione, who was sitting in a chair across from Remus.

"Oh? Yes, thank you."

She was a dear girl, not saying anything about how cold it was getting, just holding on to her patchy blanket and refusing to take off her jacket. The boys wouldn't notice, they were running around the tent so much that they were red in the face and Ginny was laughing with them. Lily put her mug down for a minute so that she could light the portable heater they had brought. Then she called out to James, who was outside the tent.

"Do you want anything, James? I've just lit the heater. Aren't you getting cold?"

His face appeared at the opening of the tent. "No, no, I'm all right. It's all excitement out here!"

They were camped near a lot of Ireland supporters who had been singing and laughing since their team had won the cup. The Bulgaria supporters weren't much better, dealing with the loss by drinking and getting rowdy. Everyone was in high spirits.

Everyone, it seemed, except James, who hadn't wanted to come here at all. He had a bad feeling, thought it wasn't safe. For all that he loved the sport he didn't want to put them in danger so that he could enjoy it. Arthur bought the tickets before he realised James might not want them, and they were so ridiculously expensive and it was such an appealing idea that James had finally surrendered. Harry didn't know that for a time it had looked like they wouldn't be able to come. He didn't appear to have noticed that his father had taken it upon himself to guard the tent.

"Would you like some tea?" Lily tried again.

"Oh, er, no, thank you love. I'll just ask the others, just a moment-" His face disappeared and there was the half-muffled sound of him talking to Percy and Oliver. He reappeared and smiled at her. "No, we're alright. Perce says he might come in a bit later, make himself a cup."

Lily nodded and sat down next to Remus, wishing that those lines hadn't appeared at James' forehead and eyes, the ones that were always there when he was stressed. There wasn't anything to worry about. They'd been here a day already and everything was fine. Nowhere was as safe as home, but they didn't mean everywhere else was dangerous.

Besides, if anything truly bad was going to happen Simon would have told her about it.

Remus downed the potion, frowning a little and tucking the vial into his pocket.

"Does that taste really awful?" Hermione asked him.

"Not as bad as Wolfsbane."

"Couldn't you add something to make it taste better? Sugar or mint or fruit, the sort of thing you put in food? There's got to be something that doesn't react with the potion. Even just neutralising the taste so it doesn't bother you-"

Remus laughed and Lily thought that being a professor this past year had been good for him. He looked younger – not younger, his age. He looked his age. None of them had realised just how bad things had been for him until they'd gotten better.

"It's not the taste with this one. It's the texture. Like drinking slime." He shuddered. "It doesn't taste a bad as Wolfsbane and I don't have to take as much of it. But I do have to take it more often. With any potion that you need to use, rather than want to use, there are going to be problems. And in my case the potions aren't being refined by the Ministry. I just have to manage with it."

Hermione thought over that for a moment. "If I work on improving them, would you help me?"

Lily hid her smile with her mug.

"Well...yes. But are you sure there aren't things you'd rather be doing? Like advocating for the rights of house elves? I thought that was very good."

Before Hermione could answer Dobby Apparated next to them with a startling _crack_. He was wearing a knitted sweater with a shamrock very nearly larger than him pinned to it. Since Harry had freed him he was able to go where he liked, and was finally doing that instead of following them around when they told him over and over again that he didn't have to. But he had a habit of turning up at strange moments.

"Is anyone needing Dobby?"

"No, Dobby. We didn't call for you. Go back to what you were doing," Lily said long-sufferingly.

"Ah, yes m-" He hesitated, looking down at the floor with his large eyes. "Yes ma- m- mm." Dobby gave up trying to find a word to call her and glanced around the tent, noticing the jackets and scarves the twins had strewn across a table and edging towards them, looking quickly back at Lily.

She nodded and he fell on them, Disapparating and Apparating around the tent to put everything away. It was taking a long time but he would learn that friends could do work for friends, but that they weren't obliged to. It was hard for him to fight what he had been urged to do for so many years. While her opinion of the Malfoys was much better now than it had been two years ago, Lily didn't think they treated their servants with anything other than cruelty. They were purebloods who only cared about purebloods. And power, which was why Harry's family was in their good books.

"Victor, I love you!" sang one of the twins at the other end of the tent.

"Victor, I dooo!" joined his brother.

"When we're apart my heart beats only for you!" they sang together with Harry as they danced around a wild-looking Ron, waving Ireland banners around. Dobby Apparated between them and they burst out laughing. Arthur was sitting near them, counting out Muggle money and staring at twenty pence and two pound coins with bemusement.

There was the sound of Hermione putting her mug down and everything was so odd but also so normal that Lily didn't notice the sounds of screaming outside until James ran in and shouted at them to move.

Remus stood up quickly. "What is it?"

"Death Eaters. Everyone – we need to get out. They're coming."

"What?" The blood rushed out of Lily's face. "No, James-"

Coins fell to the ground and Arthur went to his children. "Stop. All of you, we've got to go. Leave everything, just make sure you have your wands. Fred, George, Ginny is your responsibility. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Dad." They dropped their banners and walked quickly over to the tent's opening. Oliver was holding it open and Percy stood behind him, looking anxious.

"Hermione, come on-" Remus offered her a hand.

"Leave her here, Remus. DOBBY!" James called out. "They have a Muggle family suspended in the air. They're after Muggle-borns."

Lily's hands were shaking and she couldn't get them to stop. This was too familiar. They'd done this before.

_Crack!_

"Mr Potter has called for Dobby?"

"Yes. I need you to please take Hermione and Lily-"

"NO!"

"-and Apparate them away. Not to Godric's Hollow. Take them to Hogwarts."

"Yes, Mr Potter. Dobby will do that."

"No, James! You can't do that! I should be here-" Lily touched his face with her hands, like she was trying to hold on to him, to plead with him not to make her leave her family and friends when she could help, she could fight too, it was something she had done before and had known she would do again.

"Lily," James said her name with such gravity, and put a hand on one of hers. "They're after Muggle-borns."

"No, no..."

"You're not safe. You and Hermione. If the others get out of their way, they'll be left alone. But they will _look_ for you. You have to go, now. Hermione, do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Send Harry. Not me. They want him too, don't keep him here. Please, James!"

"Dobby can only take two people safely. And they're not here for Harry. They're here to make a show and to hurt every Muggle and Muggle-born they can find. We can hide him, but I can't risk them finding you. I won't do it, Lily. Go."

"Save him, James. Don't save me!" Lily was crying now, because she knew what he had decided and she was so, so frightened by so many things.

"Lily. Please." He touched her cheek, looking into her eyes.

Outside people were screaming. It was getting louder. Lily was choking on her tears. James took her hands and placed one of them in Dobby's. She tightened her grip and watched her husband step back to stand with their son, putting a hand on his shoulder. They looked at her and at the last second Lily almost let go, but then she was being Apparated away.

The world warped and shifted into the wide, empty hallways of Hogwarts. Lily made a great gasping sound and fell to her knees. Why had this happened? Why was she safe when they were not? Why did they have to have enemies, just because of who and what they were? Why did she have to wait, now, to find out if the people she loved had survived a battle she'd been removed from?

There was another _crack _as Dobby Disapparated.

Hermione crouched down beside her and rubbed her back in a comforting gesture.

Lily hated herself for it, but she began to cry again.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Tents were on fire. The wind sent smoke and ash all over them. As the Weasleys came out of the tent, Oliver looked over his shoulder and saw about a dozen black-robed figures walking in their direction. They were the ones everyone was running from. Their wands were pointed up to the sky, where several people were suspended. Muggles and Muggle-borns. Mr Potter was right, Mrs Potter and Hermione were in the most danger. If the house-elf could take them away then it should.

"Do you have your wand?" Percy whispered to him.

He nodded. "You?"

"Yes." Percy pulled one of the twins over as he came out. "Fred, I need you to look after them. There are a lot of people around, we might get separated. Stay as close as you can to the others. You're the oldest, you need to take care of them."

Fred shook off his hand and frowned at him. "You didn't need to tell me that. Look, just don't you be an idiot either. I'll see you back at home."

The house-elf Disapparated, taking Mrs Potter and Hermione with him. James and Harry came out of the tent. "Everyone, run as fast as you can to the forest. Stick together. Don't let anyone fall behind. If you can help someone, do it, but not at any cost to yourself. What's most important is that all of you are safe. Now, go!"

They ran, joining all the others who were fleeing their tents. Oliver hung back, glancing at the Death Eaters and the people suspended in the air. Percy ran a few steps but stopped when he saw that Oliver wasn't following.

"What are you doing?" he asked angrily.

"I can take a broom – this is the Quidditch World Cup, there'd be one around here somewhere – we can fly – we'll be out faster."

Percy stepped up to him and grabbed his arm. "That would get us killed, idiot! There's fire everywhere, what are brooms made of? And don't you think they're going to shoot down anyone who's flying? It's just bringing attention to yourself! Come on!"

The others had disappeared into the crowd of people. So they ran, trying to catch up with them, getting pushed aside by people who were more desperate than them, letting children by, stumbling and helping each other along. When Oliver let himself look back he saw that the Death Eaters were moving faster. Percy wrenched at his arm.

"Don't look back! It's just us, okay? Just us now!"

But Oliver didn't agree. So when he saw that a man had injured his leg and couldn't run, he went over to him.

He was an older man, wearing robes and a scarf in the Bulgarian team colours. His face was scrunched up with pain and he clutched his leg, rocking slightly. Blood was seeping through the material underneath his hands.

"Where's your wand?" Oliver asked him, loudly so that he could be heard over the din.

"I don't-" the man said tearfully. "It's broken! Please, are you going to help me? No one is helping me!"

Oliver knelt down, taking out his wand. Part of playing Quidditch was knowing how to fix up wounds. Madame Pomfrey had always been at the matches at school, but there were sometimes accidents at practice. "Take your hands away, please. Yes. I'll help you, but you need to-" he waved dismissively at Percy, who was pulling at him again, "-listen to what I'm saying."

The man took his hands away, hesitant in the way people were when they knew they were badly hurt. Oliver peeled the fabric of the robes away and made conversation. "What's your name?"

"Bertram. Aubrey."

"How did you hurt your leg?"

"I...fell." When Oliver looked up at him, he amended what he had said. "I was pushed. By someone I do not know. It was not deliberate."

Percy gave up trying to get Oliver to move and knelt down next to him. The robes were lifted from the wound to reveal a short, but deep cut, like Aubrey's leg had forcibly struck a piece of metal. It was bleeding a lot and not the sort of wound you got playing Quidditch. He might not be able to heal it properly. "Do you think the bone has been hurt?" he asked Percy quietly.

"Hard to tell. Use a spell on it anyway. And hurry up, would you?"

"Alright, I'm about to cast a few spells. Let me know if anything badly hurts," Oliver told Aubrey. Pointing his wand at the man's leg and placing small pressure on his knee to keep it in place, he cast, "_Tibia Emendo!_"

Aubrey cried out a little and Percy nodded. "So the bone was fractured. What are you going to use for the gash?"

"_Episkey."_

"No, that's ridiculous. Let me do it."

"Are you alright with him healing your leg, Bertram?" Oliver asked him and was privately relieved when the man nodded.

Percy drew his wand and took a deep breath. "Like this. _Vulnera Sanentur! Vulnera Sanentur! _It has to be cast three times, I should have told you. _Vulnera Sanentur!_"

The bleeding stopped and the wound closed over before their eyes. As his friend worked Oliver looked back to see that the fire was spreading. Ash was falling like snow across them and had settled on their clothes. The Death Eaters were distracted by something – a broom in the air, Oliver realised. He watched as its rider was struck with green light and fell terribly to the ground. He looked away.

"Now we just have to clean the skin. _Tergus_, isn't it?"

"_Tergeo!_" Oliver cast. "You should be better now. I'd get that checked with a healer later. We'll just help you stand..."

Aubrey was brought to his feet without any problems. He stretched his leg, noting that there was a little residual pain but nothing like before. He thanked them both repeatedly and tried to give them money, but Oliver wouldn't accept it and he couldn't find his pouch in his robes quickly enough. Instead he gave them the scarf he was wearing. "It was made by my wife," he said. "If she or I see you again we will repay you properly."

"Yes, yes, just run!" Percy said irritably. "Our lives are in danger here!"

So he ran, and they followed after him. Oliver stopped again to help up a witch that had fallen and then Percy went to free a child from a tent, "because you're not going to be anything but bloody self-sacrificing, are you?" Every time Oliver looked back the Death Eaters were closer, until he considered hiding them behind a tent that was still standing. They were some of the last people, with none of the crowds there had been earlier.

Becoming desperate, Oliver took Percy's hand. "RUN!" he shouted.

He probably rolled his eyes at that but they ran, together, as fast as they could until they were in the relative safety of the forest. Who knew when the fire would spread here, or if the Death Eaters would follow them in?

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Although the forest was where everyone had run to, there was no one there when Harry reached it. It was as if this small patch of it was under a Fidelius Charm. There weren't any footprints like there had been everywhere else. The crowd of people behind him went left or right, but not forward. Mr Weasley went left with Ginny, not seeing what Harry and his sons could. He didn't even look back at them, though Ginny did, confused but following her dad.

"I'm going to follow them. You know Dad," Fred said to George.

"Right, yeah. Take care."

Fred turned and ran after them. George watched him go and then came back to Harry and Ron.

"What do you think this is?" he asked.

"I don't know."

"If they can't see us here then we should be safe," Ron said as he walked around the space, snapping twigs underfoot.

"That's not how it works..." Harry couldn't help but feel suspicious. It went against everything he had been taught to stay somewhere that clearly had magic working on it, just because it seemed to be helpful magic, not when he didn't know the caster. If the spell had been cast for protection, why wasn't there anyone here? It could be a trap. It probably was.

He noticed that Ron was leaving footprints on what had been clear ground. Apparently George did as well, because he took out his wand and cast _Confugeo_, first on Ron's feet, then Harry's and his own. The footprints filled in with dirt as though they had never been made. The spell would stop them leaving a trail – no footprints, no broken twigs, no shadows, nothing torn. All it wouldn't hide was anything they left behind, whether they'd meant to or not. A very useful spell when you didn't want to get caught. Or in this case, found.

"Do you think we should go somewhere else?" asked George.

"It's a good place to hide. Even if someone else can see us here, there are trees we can stand behind." Ron did just that, sticking his head around it and grinning. "See? We can just stay here for a bit and then go home. We can even see the Death Eaters from here, we'll know exactly what they're doing."

"Ron..."

"Are we absolutely certain it's going to be safe where everyone else is? What if staying here saves our lives?"

There wasn't anything Harry could say to that. He looked to George, hoping he could point out what Harry felt that he was missing here.

"It's a good idea," George said, rubbing the toe of his shoe in the dirt and watching the mark disappear. "There's nothing wrong with this place, just that the others can't see it. If I had to guess I'd say it's only open to kids. That would explain why no one else is here – most of the kids going past are with their parents, who don't know that this is here. It doesn't...feel...wrong." Like Harry he looked reluctant to trust the magic, even if he couldn't find any reason not to.

"You're right." By which Harry meant 'it doesn't feel wrong' not 'it's a good idea to stay here', but Ron took it the wrong way.

"Great! Come on, then." He gestured for them to stand with him behind the tree. As they did Harry looked deep into the forest, seeing nothing that wasn't meant to be there, and out to the half-burned field of tents. It was almost empty now. There was no one to impress anymore, the Death Eaters should let the Muggles go.

George touched the tree and muttered to himself. "_Quercus robur_."

"What was that?"

He shook his head.

"Is that Percy?" Ron said disbelievingly. "How did he fall so far behind? And is he _holding hands_ with Oliver? Actually, I always thought something was up with them, how else could Oliver stand to be around him as much as he was at school? Percy can be an absolute prat."

"Ron, I really don't think it matters." All that was important was that both of them were safe.

The pair ran straight past the hidden area, though Oliver glanced back with an odd expression on his face.

The longer they stood there, Harry felt there was something he was missing. Something about this space wasn't there, like, it should be but he couldn't see it. Something that he couldn't understand, no matter how hard he tried to. Something that George was also aware of and just as unsettled by.

"We should leave," he said to Harry's intense relief.

"What? Why?"

"We have to-"

A branch snapped, even though none of them had moved.

"What was that?" George said quietly, looking around.

"We have to leave."

"We can't."

Harry was getting angry now. "Ron, we have to leave!"

"We can't!" Ron whispered harshly and pointed at something.

A single Death Eater was walking towards the forest. One person in a mask, it shouldn't have been frightening but it was. It was too close for them to run out past it. They were sure to be seen.

George swore under his breath and all of them fell silent. The only thing they could do now was hide and hope that he had been right – adults couldn't see this part of the forest.

The Death Eater walked slowly towards them. Its robes swished around its feet. No part of its skin was showing. Harry couldn't know that it was even a person. It stepped closer and closer to where the footprints ended...

...and walked right into the hidden area, as if it had meant to come here all along. It stopped and its head moved minutely. Ron had gone very white. George's face didn't have even the trace of a smile. Harry felt sick, blaming himself for what he realised now had been incredibly stupid.

A minute passed, maybe less, maybe more. It was hard to tell. The Death Eater began to walk around, stepping slowly, stopping again when it was considerably closer. Its head tilted. Harry imagined that the person behind the mask was smiling. He wanted to shut his eyes but knew better than to do that.

George hit Ron lightly on the head, then he stepped out from the safety of the tree and cast, loudly, powerfully, surprisingly, "_CONFRINGO!_"

A rush of pain went through Harry's scar and everything went black.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Notes - **I finally got to use _Confugeo_! Way back when SolBird came up with a definition for that spell. It comes from the Latin words 'confundo' meaning 'confuse' and 'fuga' meaning 'flight'. When cast and directed at a person's feet, that person no longer leaves signs of their presence, like footprints, shadows, broken branches or anything like that. It won't stop people from seeing you, but it makes it much harder for them to know where you've gone. Presumably it lasts until the spell is lifted or the people affected by it have left the area. Aside from that all the spells are canonical.


End file.
